


What Follows Next

by Predec2



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Humor, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-01-16
Packaged: 2018-05-12 05:26:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 51,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5654077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Predec2/pseuds/Predec2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brian is a rich, retired bachelor, living in a NYC penthouse. His sister keeps trying to match him up with a woman, but he never seems to find the right match. When he encounters a beautiful blond one day at a park bench, however, he is smitten. The only problem is, this blond is male. Can Brian discover his true self - and true love - along the way? </p><p>*THIS STORY IS COMPLETE.*  I will post one chapter a day until it is finished. Hope you enjoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New Arrival

**Author's Note:**

> Claire is seen in a more sympathetic light in this story. This story is a loose adaptation of the film, "What Comes Next."  
> *******************************************************
> 
> DISCLAIMER: QAF and its characters are the sole property of Showtime and Cowlip Productions. No copyright infringement is intended.

 

 

* * *

_New York City - Brian's POV - Late Fall_  
  
  
I held the receiver away from my ear and rolled my eyes as my sister Claire prattled on and on about her latest attempt to hook me up with one of New York City's most elite socialites.  
  
  
"And just what was wrong with this one, Brian? Huh? Most men would kill to have that woman on their arm! Do you know how long I've been trying to convince her to meet you? And you spent, what? Five minutes talking to her tonight? How much could you learn about someone in five minutes? How could you possibly find out if you had anything in common in that short amount of time? She's a wonderful woman, Brian! Bright, funny, comes from a long-standing pedigree...and she happens to find you very attractive, according to what she told me," she added conspiratorially in a whisper, as if that would make any difference to me.  
  
  
I closed my eyes wearily before I told her, "She just wasn't my type, Claire." I could almost sense the sigh through the phone before I heard it. After all, it wasn't the first time that I had told her that after yet another failed attempt to match me up with a potential wife.  
  
  
I mouthed the next words perfectly in sync with my sister as she said them aloud; after all, I knew them by heart now. "And just what IS your type, Brian? Do you know how many women I've tried to fix you up with? Each time you find something wrong with them." Another sigh, even heavier this time. "I just don't get it. You're handsome, you're a multimillionaire, and you retired at the age of 40 with a penthouse overlooking Central Park. If none of these women are 'your type,' as you so eloquently put it, I don't understand why you can't find one on your own. They would drop at your fucking feet, if you just let them."  
  
  
Hell if I know why, I couldn't help thinking. After all, my younger sister Claire had practically gone through the entire "Bluebloods of New York" High Society Book by now, and to no avail. I knew she meant well, but she had no idea what I wanted in a wife; hell, even I didn't know. And besides, my sister wasn't exactly the epitome of faithfulness and fidelity, either, nor a model example of blissful, married life. I had watched on the sidelines at countless weddings as my sister went through husband after husband - she was now on her 9th and threatening any minute to overtake Elizabeth Taylor's record - all the while expressing sympathy for me, the 'poor, sworn bachelor' who appeared to live a rather bleak, bland life all alone and hidden away in his penthouse.  
  
  
Not for the first time I wondered if I had done the right thing by retiring six months ago. Sometimes I wasn't sure. At the time, the offer to be bought out by one of New York's most up-and-coming advertising agencies for an outrageous amount of money had seemed too good to be true. I had been itching to break away, to take a long sabbatical from all the stress and hectic, non-stop activity to do some of the things I had longed to try, but had never had the time to really pursue: travel, dabble in writing, or perhaps even take up something more physically strenuous like rock climbing or a sport. I had always loved to engage in athletics as a jock in high school, but apart from the occasional round of handball with one of my clients in an attempt to woo them over to the agency that I owned, I had been sadly lacking sufficient time to make it a regular habit, or even to work out at the fitness club down the street. Now, however, retired at an early age and literally sitting on top of the world with a million-dollar view as my playground, I found my ambition and my drive waning. What the hell was wrong with me?  
  
  
I did enjoy the occasional company of a woman at night; no, make that tolerated. What I thought should be a highly pleasurable experience typically turned out, instead, to be more of a mechanical chore that allowed me to get off, but really didn't seem to bring me to euphoric heights of pleasure; not like I thought I should experience. Was I the one who was lacking in something, then, instead of all these women that my well-meaning sister constantly paraded around in front of me?  
  
  
"Brian? Are you there? Hello?"  
  
  
I pinched the bridge of my nose as I heard the front door open and nodded in recognition as Debbie, my personal housekeeper and cook, came in. "I have to go, Claire," I told my sister. "Debbie just got here."  
  
  
"Brian..."  
  
  
"Later, Claire," I spoke up a little louder as I firmly hung up the landline phone and sighed.  
  
  
Debbie pulled off her thin raincoat - the day having started out gray and dreary to match my dour mood - as she hung it up in the closet and turned to me to ask, "Claire playing matchmaker again?"  
  
  
I rolled my lips under in a trademark smile; Debbie always had been the most perceptive person I know, and after her having been in my employ for over ten years now she knew me - and my sister - quite well. "Yeah. Irene this time."  
  
  
"Ahh," she replied in understanding with a nod. "What did I tell you? I knew that woman had the hots for you as soon as she showed up here last night. She was eyeing you like a dog salivates over a bone."  
  
  
I grimaced at the description. "Thanks...I think." She grinned at me and I couldn't help smiling back at her in return.  
  
  
"So what's on your agenda today, Honey?" she asked me. Only she would ever get away with calling me "honey," but then again Debbie had been known to call everyone that - including Claire, who absolutely hated the cutesy moniker.  
  
  
I shrugged. "Maybe do a little more writing on my novel," I told her half-heartedly. I was finding it quite difficult to really get engrossed in my writing. My literary professor in college had always told me I was a gifted writer, but up until now the only 'writing' I had normally engaged in was helping to construct advertising copy for a potential client at my now-former agency, Kinnetik. The medical suspense mystery I had always been itching to write was presently a mishmash of muddled thoughts, instead, and I was finding it hard to even concentrate on it. I didn't want to admit that I was feeling like a failure, however; Brian Kinney was NEVER a failure, at least to outward appearances, and I wasn't about to admit defeat now.  
  
  
Deb nodded at me as she walked over and pulled out a half-apron from the nearby dining room buffet to tie it around her ample waist. "Well, I'll get started on breakfast and have your coffee ready in a jiffy," she told me as I nodded. It was our normal, daily routine; had been for years now, except now I didn't really feel like I had much purpose in life. I didn't have to get up to go to work; I didn't have a shitload of clients to schmooze, and I didn't have any employees to lord over. It was just me and a poor, barely-begun rendition of a novel that would never become a Pulitzer as my constant companion.  
  
  
Watching as Debbie disappeared into the kitchen, I turned to walk back into my master bedroom suite to pull out my clothes for the day before I took my morning shower: a crisp, light-blue shirt, navy khaki pants with a sharp crease, soft, leather Gucci loafers with matching belt, and a silk tie. I dressed the same regardless of whether or not I had anywhere to go; it was simply the way I had done it for years, and I wasn't about to change my ritual now. My personal mantra had always been: Everything has a place, and everything a purpose. I lived my life on the promise of consistency and regulation each day, and counted on its regularity.  
  
  
Emerging thirty minutes later, meticulously groomed and shirt neatly tucked inside my pants, I took a moment to admire my still-chiseled physique and lack of gray hair in the dresser mirror before I walked out of my bedroom down the hallway, hearing the doorbell and then my sister's voice. I groaned; what was she doing here? I had just talked to her a few minutes ago. If she was going to try and set me up with yet another blind date, I might just throttle her. Little did I know at the time, however, that she had a female with her, all right, but it wasn't quite the type of female I was expecting.  
  
  
"Claire?" I called out, slightly annoyed as she turned around and greeted me with...  
  
  
"What the fuck is THAT?" I asked, my mouth hanging open in disbelief as I pointed at a...thing cradled in her arms. It was white with large ears; I immediately decided it was either some grotesque form of E.T. or an albino version of Yoda; a pair of bulging, luminous, dark eyes peered over at me, a big, flouncy red bow tied around its neck.  
  
  
Claire smiled over at me radiantly. "Ta da...she's all yours, Brian!"  
  
  
My eyes widened in both dread and protest. "Oh, no, it's not. You brought it here, you take it back with you - to whatever planet it came from."  
  
  
She had the gall to laugh at me as she walked closer. "France is not a planet, Brian. She's a French bulldog - and a very expensive one, I might add." She held the dog out toward me by its front paws as she squealed, "Isn't she just the most precious thing you've ever seen?"  
  
  
The puppy blinked back at me docilely as I looked at her, aghast. She was solid white, except for her pale, pink belly and the pink toenails. "That isn't the word that comes to my mind," I muttered. Just then, Debbie walked in from the kitchen and promptly dropped the feather duster she had in her hand. "What is that doing here?"  
  
  
"My question exactly; and IT was just leaving."  
  
  
"Oh, no, she's not," my sister told me as she pressed her lips tightly together in determination, and shoved the ‘thing' into my hands before I could protest. It was either drop the damn dog or hold it, so grudgingly I held it out from my body a couple of feet away like I would a dead rat as the animal continued to eye me curiously; she didn't seem nonplussed at all over all the fuss she was causing - or the extreme discomfort I was presently feeling. "Claire..."  
  
  
"I can't take her back, Brian," my sister told me as if reading my mind. "No returns unless they're unhealthy." She reached over to scratch behind the dog's ears as she cooed in her face, "And this one is just as healthy as they come, aren't you, Precious?" I sighed heavily as she explained, "You didn't like any other females I introduced you to that had a pedigree, so you'd better get used to this one. You're alone far too much and need some companionship." She reached over to kiss my cheek as she turned to go.  
  
  
"Uh...Claire..."  
  
  
She arched one perfectly manicured eyebrow at me. "No need to thank me, Brian! Oh, and don't worry; I've arranged for a trainer to come tomorrow to help you get started with...what are you going to name her?"  
  
  
I scowled at her as I replied, "She isn't going to have a name, because she's leaving. Au Revoir!"  
  
  
But my sister just smiled at me as if I had just told her, yes, I LOVE whimpering, shitting, poop machines in my penthouse, before she issued a dismissive "Well, you'll think of something! Ta, ta, big brother!" and promptly left, leaving me with my mouth wide open and Debbie standing there in shock.  
  
  
"You heard what she said, right? That the dog isn't house trained?" she told me as the realization set in. No, I hadn't even thought about that, I thought sarcastically. What did I know about a dog? Shit. In more ways than one. "Debbie..."  
  
  
"Uh, uh," she told me flatly as she popped a piece of gum and placed her hands on her abundant hips. "I'm paid to be your housekeeper and to cook your meals, NOT to pick up dog poop and clean up piss." She eyed the dog carefully. "And better take her outside; I understand puppies only do three things: eat, sleep, and poop. Kind of like my first husband!" she cackled as she turned to head back into the kitchen. "I'll have your breakfast ready when you get back," she told me. "And better pick up the Sunday paper when you go out, too!" she added. "You're going to need it." With a maddening smirk, then, she turned and headed toward my kitchen. "I'll put dog chow down on the grocery list," she called out as she disappeared. I could hear her snickering as I groaned, studying the small but stocky, squirming package being held out in front of me; the large, dark eyes blinked back at me innocently. "You're not fooling me," I muttered, narrowing my eyes suspiciously. I rolled my eyes in annoyance before letting out a heavy sigh. "Come on," I growled and I turned to head toward the door, still holding the puppy out in front of me. At least it - correction, she - didn't seem to be the shedding type, or she would promptly be tied outside to a light pole with a ‘free' sign around her neck. I grimaced, then, realizing that for now, at least, I would have to find a collar and a leash for the beast, too. "Claire," I growled under my breath as, unable to open the door in my present predicament, I wrinkled my nose as I held the pudgy, warm body against my new, Armani cotton shirt, before turning the knob and heading out into the hallway.

* * *

  
  
_Later that Night..._  
  
  
Debbie had left a couple of hours ago, and at last I had some time to recline on my bed, reading glasses on hand as I reached for my edition of today's Wall Street Journal. It was my favorite way to relax at night, and I smiled as I took a sip from my wine glass lying on the nightstand next to me before glancing at the headlines. It had been a hell of a day - having to watch the damn dog like a hawk to make sure she didn't leave me any calling cards around the penthouse - but at last I had her confined in the tiled kitchen by virtue of a folding baby gate the concierge downstairs had managed to find somewhere, and I was finally, blissfully alone. I would still have to figure out what to do with...her. But that could keep until tomorrow. Once I found her a good home (read: ANY home), I wouldn't have to worry about buying anything else. I already had been forced to purchase a collar and leash - obtained, again, by Johnathan, the concierge; I couldn't be bothered by that petty shit - but for now I had made sure that she couldn't escape from her temporary pen. I had grudgingly taken Debbie's advice, and had purchased the Sunday paper; the comic and real estate sections were now temporary design elements on my kitchen floor. I smirked, figuring what Debbie's reaction would be when she arrived for work tomorrow. Well, at least it would be temporary, I reminded myself. Letting out a deep breath to calm myself, I focused my attention on the latest business acquisition from Berkley Enterprises...that is, until I heard the distinctive sound of whimpering noises. It didn't take long to realize where - and whom - they were originating from. "Shit," I muttered in disbelief. "I gave you one of my fucking best blankets!" I removed my reading glasses to pinch the bridge of my nose in aggravation. "What do you WANT? Cashmere?!" I tried furiously to just ignore the whimpering, smiling in relief when it ceased after a couple of minutes...until it started up again, this time even more vociferously than before. "Go to SLEEP!" I growled in annoyance. But the picky prima donna did not seem to understand common English, as she continued to not only whimper loudly now, but also yelp for emphasis.  
  
  
"Aarrrgh!" Clenching my fists in frustration, I threw my paper down onto the mattress, and - placing my reading glasses on the nightstand - swung my legs to the side and rose to my feet, stomping my way out of the bedroom and down the hall to the kitchen.  
  
  
Five minutes later, I was back in bed, again reading the paper - with the puppy now snoozing contentedly at my feet. Peering over my paper down at the curled up bundle, I couldn't help the smile that escaped my lips as I heard soft snoring. Finally, quiet once more prevailed as I turned the page to continue reading.

* * *

  
  
_The Next Morning - Precisely at 9:00 a.m. - Brian's POV_  
  
  
Wiping her hands on her flowered apron, Debbie glanced over at me curiously as the doorbell sounded, eyeing the newest occupant warily who was snoozing away on my leather sofa.  
  
  
"It's the trainer," I explained.  
  
  
"Yours, or the dog's?" she snarked as I scowled at her.  
  
  
"Just answer the door, Deb."  
  
  
She smacked her gum, cackling over her joke as she walked over to the door to let the trainer in. "This way," she told the young, dark-haired woman before she had any chance to utter so much as a syllable. "Good luck."  
  
  
The woman smiled. "Oh, she's a little rambunctious thing, is she?" she chirped with a knowing look. "Oh, don't worry; I haven't met a student I didn't like yet - or couldn't help train."  
  
  
Debbie smirked. "Oh, I'm not talking about the dog; I'm talking about the owner." She grinned at the woman's confounded expression as she led her over to me, and I got my first glimpse of the trainer who was supposed to be my version of the Dog Whisperer. She didn't look a day over 10, I decided, as she walked up and confidently thrust her hand out at me.  
  
  
"The name's Missy!" she told me as I warily shook her hand. "And you must be Mr. Kinney!"  
  
  
I snickered. "Very astute. I guess the dog I'm holding in my arms didn't give anything away?"  
  
  
She didn't take the bait as her eyes widened with delight. "Oh, just who is this precious thing?" She glanced up at me as the Yoda lookalike's eyes blinked and the puppy's ears perked up at the sound of her girlish voice, apparently expecting me to supply her with that information.  
  
  
"She doesn't have a name," I explained. "Can't she just answer to ‘little shit,' or something? She's not going to stay here."  
  
  
Missy frowned in disbelief as she looked at the pudgy bundle in my arms. "Oh, how could you even think of sending someone like her away?" she cried out in shock. She smiled broadly at ‘what's her name.' "Now we simply must have a name for her. One word names are best," she instructed me as she studied her carefully, her index finger pressed into her lower lip. "Let's see...she has a sweet face, a strong build...and is very quiet!"  
  
  
I snickered. "Sounds like the perfect wife," I decided. A sudden thought occurred to me as I smiled. "That's it!" I decided immediately. "Mrs. Kinney."  
  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
  
I smiled with a nod. "Her name. Mrs. Kinney."  
  
  
Her expression faltered. "Well...that is a rather...unique name. Are you sure?"  
  
  
I grinned in total satisfaction as I held the dog up in front of my face to look into her large, dark eyes. I could hear her panting softly as I smiled. "Mrs. Kinney," I tried it out with a nod. "Yes." I placed her down on the ground, her leash holding her securely by my side. "Mrs. Kinney and I are ready," I told her.  
  
  
She hesitated for a moment before apparently deciding she was going to abide by the ‘customer is always right' motto. "Well, okay, then...Mrs. Kinney it is!" she chirped with a smile. "Now our first lesson today will be about house training her..."  
  
  
"Definitely," I agreed as Debbie nodded. I knew if anyone would be cleaning shit up off the floor, it wouldn't be her. Why did I agree to hire her again? I wondered. But she had been much too good to my now deceased parents to employ anyone else. And let's face it, she could banter the bullshit back and forth with me like no other - with not a modicum of fear in her body, too.  
  
  
Missy nodded at me. "Very well...let's start by showing Mrs. Kinney here how she knows to go outside. We use positive reinforcement and encouragement, never sharp words or reprimands. She will learn by the tone of your voice, and the motion of your hands."  
  
  
I nodded, uncertain of how that would work. As the owner (well, former owner) of one of the largest advertising firms in New York City, I felt visual images were much more important, not the tone of my voice. _It's not like the damn dog spoke English_ , I thought.  
  
  
As if reading my mind, Missy spoke up. "Dogs are very intuitive," she told me. "They look to you for guidance and encouragement, and that's accomplished by action as well as voice. Let me show you."  
  
  
Debbie watched from her place near the living room couch, eying me with amusement as I scoffed dubiously. "I'm not so sure that's going to make a difference...."  
  
  
"Oh, now don't you worry!" she exclaimed way too exuberantly for my taste, her face breaking out into a big smile. "We'll have your little bundle of joy housetrained in no time!"  
  
  
I scowled at Debbie as she had the nerve to guffaw right then. Ignoring her, I tugged on Mrs. Kinney's leash and followed Missy over to the door, not admitting to myself or to Debbie that I thought I was out of my fucking mind.

 

* * *

  
  
_The Next Day..._  
  
  
"Good Morning, Mr. Kinney," James greeted me with a tip of his uniform cap as he held the building's front door open for me. He glanced down at the poop machine on four legs, and then back up at me with a quizzical smile. "New member of the family?" he asked politely in amusement.  
  
  
"Temporary member," I hastened to explain, still trying to convince myself that this arrangement wasn't permanent; why did I somehow suspect, however, that I was going to be proven wrong? I winced as the bright sunlight glared back at me, even at 8:00 in the morning. I thought briefly of having James find someone to walk Mrs. Kinney for me, but since I enjoyed meandering around the park anyway, I decided I could handle taking her along with me.  
  
  
"Oh...a shame," James responded with a smile at the puppy. "She looks like a strong, little thing."  
  
  
"Yeah...Built just like a roller derby queen," I quipped dryly as he chuckled.  
  
  
"Well, have a nice walk, Mr. Kinney." He glanced down at the puppy again. "You, too...uh...what's her name?"  
  
  
"Mrs. Kinney. But just like the ones who get married in Vegas, she's not staying long."  
  
  
The doorman laughed at the odd choice. "Well, that's a shame," James commented. "She's a real cutie."  
  
  
A sudden idea occurred to me then; James had two kids from what I recalled. "How'd you like to keep her?" I asked hopefully. But my hopes were dashed when he shook his head regretfully.  
  
  
"I wish I could," he answered, as he tipped his cap at someone else entering the building. "But the wife's deathly allergic to animal dander. That's why we have fish," he explained with a grin.  
  
  
I nodded in disappointment, figuring I'd best get going, or Princess here would be leaving her indelible mark on the few trees scattered on the sidewalk, and that was strictly forbidden around here. "Well, have a good day, James."  
  
  
"You, too, Mr. Kinney. Mrs. Kinney," he added with a chuckle and a tip of his cap at her. With one more, regretful glance from James toward my companion, I nodded and headed down the sidewalk toward the sidewalk directly across from the park's main entrance. When I was working at my desk on 56th street, high above Central Park, I used to find great solace in walking over to my expansive office windows to gaze down upon Mirror Lake and the surrounding greenery. It always helped to ground me somehow, and now that I was a ‘man of leisure,' I made it a point to take a daily walk around the expansive acreage, inevitably winding up at one of my favorite park benches. It was located a fairly short walk within the park, along a heavily treed boulevard, but far enough from the main entrance that most people did not venture there this early in the morning. I found it quite relaxing and invigorating; not to mention, it invariably supplied me with some interesting people watching, from roller skaters, to lovers holding hands, to little old grandmas carrying large satchels with who-knew-what inside, or would-be opera divas, taking advantage of the performance shell's excellent outdoor acoustics to practice their singing. I even occasionally was serenaded by traveling musicians - everything from saxophone and violin players to the more obscure bagpipe players. No matter what day it was, however, I could always anticipate something interesting to occupy my time.  
  
  
And I had plenty of time, now that I wasn't working. Some days I thought it was wonderful - to have so much free time now to do whatever I wanted to do. Most days, though, I felt lost. It wasn't that I needed to work; wise investments, along with an excellent marketing and advertising acumen, had made me a very rich man at a fairly early age. But sometimes I felt like I hadn't retired because I wanted to; I felt like I had retired because everyone else expected me to. After all, what man my age WOULDN'T prefer to spend their time on leisurely pursuits, rather than sitting behind an office desk all day long, only dreaming of such a privilege? But to me - a man who had always gotten such a rush out of the thrill of the hunt when it came to pursuing lucrative clients - I found myself floundering with my new-found free time.  
  
  
Sighing, I looked down as my companion squatting in the grass to do her thing. Thank God she had waited until we arrived at the park to take a crap. The thought of her doing THAT - not to mention the smell - in my kitchen or anywhere else in my penthouse made me want to gag. Just for my own protection, however, I had taken her out in the middle of the night so she could piss; I wasn't taking any chances. I imagined that even on newspaper, getting the smell of urine out of expensive hardwood could be a real bitch.  
  
  
"Good dog!" I praised her enthusiastically, trying to follow the trainer's advice. I was NOT, however, going to utter ‘pissy, pissy,' every time she did her thing outside, or ‘poopie, poopie,' when she shit. That is where I drew the line. Instead, I'll try the encouraging route instead of berating her when she makes a mistake, since my own employees seem to respond better that way and I figure as they say, Why fix it if it isn't broken? Besides, what did I know about housetraining a dog? I didn't even WANT to know how to housetrain a dog. But for the time being, I had no choice, unless I wanted my hardwood floors stained a very unwelcome color, and a housekeeper fussing at me 24/7.  
  
  
Her business done, the two of us slowly advanced toward my favorite area of the park; after several minutes, I eventually became a little impatient and picked her up to speed our progress somewhat, since her stocky, little legs reminded me of a toddler learning to walk for the first time, and I figured at the rate we were going it would be hours before we reached our destination. In addition, she seemed to find each blade of grass or tree trunk incredibly fascinating, so I dismissed any gesture of carrying her against my chest as anything but a convenience. She had already thrown my schedule off by at least fifteen minutes.  
  
  
Finally reaching the familiar grove of hardwood trees draped across the paved boulevard, I headed toward my favorite park bench - only to observe that someone else had already commandeered it. My mouth opened in shock and indignation. What the hell? I silently seethed. How dare someone else take MY bench, especially when there were several others around! And not only that, but the man sitting there had a dog with him, too! Some stocky, low-to-the-ground, brown-and-white concoction that faintly resembled the substantial little body I was currently holding in my arms, was tied to a leg of the bench, sniffing around his immediate surroundings as the man gazed off into the distance, his body slightly turned away from me. I noticed he was wearing a casual outfit of a ball cap, an open, short-sleeved, maroon-and-white paisley shirt, a pair of beige Chinos, and some well-worn sneakers. Obviously this guy wasn't too fashion conscious.  
  
  
Feeling suddenly ridiculous and embarrassed over carrying a fucking puppy in my arms, I gently lowered the white bundle down onto the ground as she began to curiously do some tentative exploring. I held onto her leash as I walked closer to ‘MY' bench, affronted that anyone would have the gall to pick THAT one out of all the benches available. As I approached, though, the man must have sensed me, because he turned his head to peer over at me, and the smile I received caused any indignant words to die in my throat before I could utter them.  
  
  
"Hi," the young man greeted me. I noticed him glance down at ‘her' curiously, and his smile became even more radiant, if that was possible. I was surprised to find that it momentarily stunned me, and I felt something flutter inside my stomach for a moment before he asked, "And who is this?" He reached down to scratch the top of her head, affectionately rubbing her ears. I noticed she seemed to be eating up the attention. He peered up at me expectantly for an answer, as his dog walked over and sniffed my dog curiously, starting with her rump; the puppy's short tail began to wag furiously in response.  
  
  
I blurted out the same thing that had come to my mind earlier with James. "Mrs. Kinney."  
  
  
He looked at me in surprise before he burst into laughter; it was a musical sort of sound, and for some reason I found it quite captivating. I couldn't help smiling back at him in reaction as he replied, "Mrs. Kinney? I'm not sure your wife would appreciate that...although she IS cute."  
  
  
"There IS no other Mrs. Kinney," I informed him. "This is going to be the ONLY Mrs. Kinney, even though Claire keeps trying to fix me up."  
  
  
"Claire?" the man asked, squinting under the glare of the bright sun slowly rising between the canopy of trees.  
  
  
I nodded. "My younger sister."  
  
  
He nodded back at me, resting his arms along the back of the bench, angling one leg over the other one as he took a deep breath and smiled, closing his eyes. "I love coming here," he murmured contently.  
  
  
I studied him for a moment before I pointed out, "I've never seen you here before."  
  
  
He opened his eyes back up then to explain, "I'm usually here earlier. I was running late because I had to deliver a painting across town first."  
  
  
"You're a mover?" I asked. He looked a little too...fragile to be a mover. Most movers I thought of were big and bulky.  
  
  
He laughed again, that tinkling sort of laugh from before. "No. I'm an artist. I paint them. But I guess you could say I'm a part-time mover, too. Starving artists have to be versatile."  
  
  
I nodded in understanding. "How long have you been painting?"  
  
  
He grinned. "Well, depends upon whom you ask. If you ask my mom, she would say ever since she gave birth to me. She always claims I had a crayon clutched in my hand from the time I came out of her womb. But if you ask me, I'd say since kindergarten."  
  
  
I laughed. "Oh...so about ten years ago, then?"  
  
  
"Huh?" I thought I saw him blush as he replied a little indignantly, "No, NOT ten years ago! How young do you think I am?" He sighed. "Fuck, I get that all the time!"  
  
  
"Well, some people would consider that a compliment," I pointed out, peering at him curiously. "Just how old ARE you?"  
  
  
"Old enough to be more than legal," was the mysterious answer, making me wonder just what sort of ‘legal' activity he was referring to. Why did I care, though? I didn't even KNOW this person, and I figured I would never see him - or his little dog - ever again. I smirked then, thinking how I suddenly sounded like the Wicked Witch of the West. "What?" he asked curiously.  
  
  
I shook my head. "Nothing," I told him in dismissal as I peered down at his dog, who was hopping around my own excitedly, making some sort of snorting sound as he played with her. "Just what sort of dog IS that?" I asked. "Are your sure it's a dog, and not a pig?"  
  
  
He laughed. I was beginning to LIKE that laugh. "He's a pug; they always make that kind of sound when they're excited."  
  
  
I nodded in amusement. "And pray tell, what's the pig's name? Porky? Piglet?"  
  
  
He smiled at me broadly, which, for some reason, made my pulse race. "His name is Reginald. Reggie for short."  
  
  
"Reggie," I repeated as I studied the stocky canine. "Hmm...I think it fits in some weird way," I decided as he grinned back at me.  
  
  
He studied me for a few seconds until he scooted over on the bench. "Have a seat? The two kids here can get acquainted. Oh, sorry...I mean your wife." He chuckled as I scowled at him, but I walked over and sat down on the other end of the bench.  
  
  
"At the risk of sounding trite, do you come here often?" he asked. "You mentioned you had never seen me here before."  
  
  
I nodded. "Yeah. I usually come here every morning." I gazed out onto the tall, sweeping trees that graced Central Park as I explained, "I find it peaceful here." I turned my attention back to my companion. "You?"  
  
  
He nodded. "Me, too. But I'm usually here earlier. Reggie there is an early riser, so I'm normally out and about by 8." He shook his head in amazement. "I never used to get up that early until HE came along. He was a gift from a former boyfriend. That's about the only thing I have left of him now." There was a hint of sadness in his voice as my eyes widened in realization, and manners or not, I blurted out the first thing that came to my mind.  
  
  
"Boyfriend? So you're...?"  
  
  
He smiled at me good-naturedly as he finished my thought. "Gay?"  
  
  
I nodded.  
  
  
He squinted at me before lowering his face to hide the sun with his ball cap. He nodded. "Yep," he simply said as he stared over at me, making me uncomfortable for some reason. It wasn't that I was some homophobic bigot. But frankly I just didn't see the attraction for a man toward another man. As if reading my thoughts, he asked quietly, his expression open and candid, "Does that bother you?"  
  
  
I shook my head, feeling awkward. "No," I struggled to explain. "I just have trouble wrapping my head around it," I admitted. Unexpectedly he laughed at me then. "What?" I asked, confused.  
  
  
He grinned as he reached down to untangle his dog's leash from the leg of the bench. "Nothing. That's just a funny way of putting it."  
  
  
I frowned until I considered what I had said, and then I found myself inexplicably blushing. "Oh."  
  
  
"You?"  
  
  
I peered over at him. "Huh?"  
  
  
"And you? You're...straight?"  
  
  
How had I gotten into this conversation with a virtual stranger? I cleared my throat as he stared over at me with the clearest, bluest eyes I had ever seen. "Yeah."  
  
  
He nodded. "I thought so."  
  
  
I frowned. "You did? Why? Do I look like I'm straight?"  
  
  
He laughed. "No...that's just an old wives' tale that you can tell by the way someone looks whether they're straight or gay. You just mentioned how your sister was constantly trying to match you up with someone, so I just assumed, that's all."  
  
  
I snorted. "Oh. That's an understatement! If Claire had HER way, I'd have been married a long time ago to some blueblood with a pedigree longer than a Westminster champion." He chuckled at that, and I couldn't smiling back at him.  
  
  
"But you don't want that? To settle down and all?"  
  
  
I shrugged. "Who knows? Honestly? I'm not sure. But I just haven't found the right person yet." He nodded back at me, a solemn look on his face. I didn't quite know how to reverse the question in his case. What would I say? _Met any interesting guys lately? Where do you go to find them?_ I wasn't even sure what you would do once you found one, anyway. Probably better off not to go there, then, I decided, as I changed the subject. "So you're a painter."  
  
  
He nodded. "That's right. And what do _you_ do?"  
  
  
"Did. What did I USED to do," I corrected him. "I'm retired, actually."  
  
  
His eyes widened in surprise, and I thought I detected just a bit of envy on his face as he asked me, "Wow. How did you manage that? You don't look a day over..."  
  
"Watch it," I warned him as he grinned.  
  
  
"Thirty?"  
  
  
I grinned in satisfaction. "Close enough."  
  
  
He rolled his eyes. "Come on! You're young either way. But just HOW young?"  
  
  
I considered my response briefly before I decided there was no point in denying it. I knew even at my age, I was still considered a good catch. Being handsome - and having wads of money - normally made a person seem quite attractive. "I just turned 40 a month ago," I divulged.  
  
  
He smiled. "You are very well preserved to be 40."  
  
  
"Excuse me?" I asked, feeling insulted. "At least I'm old enough to drink booze and drive."  
  
  
He laughed then; a hearty, amused laugh, and I couldn't help rolling my lips under playfully.  
  
  
"I'll have you know, Mr. Kinney, that my 27th birthday is coming up next month."  
  
  
Now it was MY turn to gape back at him. "Twenty-seven?" He nodded at me as my eyes widened. "Well, apparently you're more well-preserved than I, then."  
  
  
He grinned. "I'll take that as a compliment." He glanced down at his watch and suddenly stood up. "Shit, I didn't realize how late it was," he told me. He squatted down next to the bench leg to undo his dog's leash before standing back up...not before I had a chance to view his ass. And it was a very attractive one, too, I had to admit. I blinked in shock. _Why in the hell was I thinking about THAT?  
_  
  
"Uh...you said you come here every morning?"  
  
  
I nodded. "Yeah. And I'll HAVE to especially now...now that I have custody of this never-ending shitting and pissing machine." I sighed. "Claire is taking Mrs. Kinney back the next time she comes over to visit. Funny how she's made herself quite scarce since bringing her over to me. I'm sure it's just a coincidence, though," I told him, my voice dripping with sarcasm.  
  
  
"Oh, you won't get rid of her," the man told me as he turned to go. "You've got ‘dog person' written all over you." I opened my mouth to protest, but didn't get a chance as he asked, "So...same time tomorrow, same bench?"  
  
  
_Didn't he just get through telling me that he normally came here an hour earlier?_ I recalled. But I nodded my head anyway, as Mrs. Kinney strained on her leash in an attempt to follow her newly-found friend. "Now don't get all hot and bothered, girl," I told her. "You'll see your little friend again tomorrow," I found myself assuring her. Was I truly out of my mind? But I figured, _what the hell?_ "Okay," I agreed as he smiled at me and nodded.  
  
  
"Good. Well...I best be going, then. Come on, Reggie! We're late!" he urged the pug, as the two of them headed over toward the nearby walkway.  
  
  
"Hey! Wait a minute!"  
  
  
He turned to look at me as I explained, "I know your dog's name...but I don't know yours," I pointed out, suddenly needing to know.  
  
  
He smiled and nodded in understanding. "Justin. Justin Taylor."  
  
  
"Nice to meet you, Justin Taylor. I'm Brian. Brian Kinney."  
  
  
Justin grinned. "Well, I figured out the last name," he pointed out as I smiled back at him and nodded. "But nice to know the rest. Likewise. So...see you tomorrow?"  
  
  
I nodded in confirmation as - with a final wave from my new acquaintance - the two of them soon disappeared out of sight around the bend, the young man I had just met lingering in my mind for a long time afterward.

 


	2. It's Just Dinner...Right?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian continues to feel conflicted toward his new bench mate. Claire confides in her brother about a concern she has.

_One Week Later...9:50 a.m._

I tried to concentrate on reading the paper I had bought at the newsstand a short while ago, but I found myself, instead, frequently glancing up toward the sidewalk.  It was almost ten, and Justin had yet to show up.  He was normally so punctual that I could set my Rolex by him. But this morning, I had yet to see his smiling face walking up to me and sitting down at the other end of the bench after he tied up Reggie, just like he did every morning.  Even Mrs. Kinney seemed to be distressed, also. Instead of constantly moving around the bench and checking out the latest smells she could find, she had found a place to rest and was lying down on her belly, her sad eyes peering straight ahead at nothing in particular.  Even the squirrels - which normally set her to yapping up a storm - didn't seem to interest her this morning.  I heard her let forth with a sigh that sounded particularly sad to my ears.

 

"I know, Girl," I murmured.  "You miss your buddy, huh?"  I reached down and scratched her silky ears.  She whined softly in response as I sighed.  Reaching down to untie her leash, I stood up, knowing that for whatever reason my ‘date' wasn't going to show today.  _Date_?  _Where did THAT come from?_ I wondered, shaking my head.  "Come on, Mrs. Kinney. Time to go home."  Folding the paper in half, I tucked it under my arm as she and I headed toward the walkway taking us back to my penthouse.

 

* * *

 

Opening the door ten minutes later, I immediately knew by the smell of Chanel No. 5 in the air who had come to visit.  I could hear murmuring in the kitchen as I called out, "Claire, I know you're here." 

 

"I wasn't trying to hide, Brian," she chided me as, a few seconds later, both she and Debbie headed out into the living room. I unhooked Mrs. Kinney from her leash, and hung it up on the nearby hook rack.  "There you go," I told her with a smile as she did what she always did every day when we returned from our walk to the park - headed straight toward her silver water dish to take several gulps. "So...you finally came to pick her up."  _Why did that make me sad, though, instead of relieved?_ I wondered.

She huffed. "No, I did _not_ come to pick up little Buttercup here," she cooed at the puppy with a smile.  "She is just the most adorable thing! Is that a new rhinestone collar?"  She squinted as she leaned closer while Mrs. Kinney polished off the rest of her morning's dog chow.  "Oh, my God! Did you get it monogrammed? And is that a license I see hanging around her neck?"  She smirked at me triumphantly with a haughty sort of expression, and I knew I was so fucked. 

 

I sighed as Debbie smacked her gum at me and smiled.  "No, it's not rhinestones," I corrected her quietly, two pairs of eyes watching me.  "They're Swarovski crystals, okay?  No dog of mine is going around with some fucking rhinestone collar around her neck."

 

I jumped as my sister screeched, "Ah, ha!  I KNEW it!  You're attached to her!"  She frowned.  "What's her name, anyway?  Or have you given her a name yet?" 

 

Debbie let forth with a guffaw.  "Yeah, Brian. Tell her the dog's name.  Very cute," she told Claire facetiously.

 

My sister stared over at me expectantly.  "Mrs. Kinney."

"What?" 

 

I said... _Mrs. Kinney_. That's the dog's name."

 

"Why in the hell would you call her _that_?" 

 

"Because she's the only ‘wife' I'm ever going to have - she doesn't talk back to me, doesn't expect me to have sex with her..."

 

"Kinky," Debbie commented as my sister crinkled her nose in distaste over my uncouthness.  

 

"...and best of all, she doesn't expect me to spend a fucking fortune on her food at some obscenely swanky restaurant." 

 

"Just her food _dishes_ ," Debbie murmured under her breath; she turned to smile sweetly at me as I glared over at her.  I wasn't about to point out that Mrs. Kinney's dog dishes were pure silver.  What sense was there in purchasing items that would just need to be replaced right away? 

 

"She's the one and ONLY Mrs. Kinney...and I prefer it that way. So if you've come over here to try and play matchmaker again, you can just forget it." 

 

She shook her head as she plopped down melodramatically onto the couch.  "No, not that. I've got a bigger problem than trying to get you married off."

 

"What could be bigger than that?" I quipped sarcastically as I sat down beside her.

 

"It's Brad." 

 

"What about him?"  Claire was constantly harping on her oldest son, even though Brad was 22 and more than capable of taking care of himself. 

 

"I...I'm just..." she began to blubber suddenly, reaching for a Kleenex and snatching it out of the box before wiping her nose and honking loudly like a Canadian geese.  "I'm afraid." 

 

I laughed in amusement as Debbie watched us quietly, only stopping to wipe the feather duster over my dining room table as I glanced over at her so it would appear she was working while we were talking.  I knew she was hanging on every word, however.  "You're afraid of Brad? He wouldn't hurt a fly." 

 

My sister shook her head adamantly.  "No, no, I'm not afraid of _him_!"  She leaned closer to me to stage whisper in my ear.  "I'm afraid that he's... _gay_."

 

I looked at her in mock horror as I raised my hands to my face in a perfect imitation of that kid in _Home Alone_.  "Oh, no. Better segregate him from the general public, then. He might be contagious." 

 

"Is that possible?"  She asked, her eyes wide with fear.  She appeared appalled at the thought as she began to rummage around in her Louis Vuitton purse.  "Where are my pills?  Oh, my God! I hadn't even thought of that! I think I'm going to faint!" 

 

Debbie snickered as I gave my sister a pointed look.  "No, of course it's not possible!" I growled.  "Being gay isn't some communicable disease, Claire!  And it's not like you can just take a shower and get rid of it, either!  It's not some illness you can cure!"

 

"I...I didn't say that," she stammered.  "It's just that...well...you know, Brian."

 

"No, I don't know." 

 

"I just want him to be happy.  And now, well...that's going to make it harder."

 

"Harder for whom?  Him? Or you?" 

 

"I just can't see the reason why a guy would want to do ‘that' with another guy," she told me, crinkling her nose and making me recall a similar sentiment that I had thought the first time I had met Justin.  I had found as time went on, however, that Justin was just like any other person.  A very intelligent, well-read, funny person. It didn't matter what his sexual persuasion was.  He was a person, just like everyone else, not a label.  Being gay didn't make him any different. And I had come to enjoy spending time with him each morning, which had made this morning all that much more disappointing.  I don't think I even realized just how much I looked forward to our encounter each day until now.  But I didn't stop to analyze the reason why, however, as I noticed my sister still staring at me expectantly. 

 

I sighed.  "Claire, as long as he finds someone who makes him happy, what difference does it make?"

 

"But....I didn't raise him that way, Brian!  And neither did his father." 

 

I snorted, noticing Debbie out of the corner of my eye, trying hard to bite her tongue.  "It has nothing to do with how someone is ‘raised'!  It's something...biological. Something that can't be corrected with some parenting technique.  Just be happy that he's healthy and that he loves you...despite what you might think about his choice of sexual partner. Okay?" 

 

She sighed, but I could still readily see the hesitation on her face.  "Okay...but..."

 

"But what?" 

 

"I'm afraid that he will get one of those...illnesses.  And I'm just having a hard time dealing with the reality of all this, that's all.  I wanted grandbabies," she confided with a disappointed sigh.  "Lots and lots of grandbabies." She stared over at me to add, "And _you're_ sure as hell not going to make me an aunt anytime soon!" 

 

I shook my head.  "If you're having that much of a problem coming to terms with this, Claire, maybe you should attend a PFLAG meeting." 

 

"A what?" 

 

"PFLAG.   It stands for _Parents, Friends, and Family of Lesbians and Gays_ ," I explained, recalling a similar conversation I had had a few days ago with Justin, when I had noticed him wearing a deep purple ball cap with the letters across the front.  It turns out that Justin had a whole closet full of ball caps, in fact; he normally wore one every day that we met at the park. "They're a support group for people just like you, who have a hard time accepting their loved one's alternate lifestyle.  I think it would be very beneficial for you to attend one of their meetings." 

 

"I'm sure they would just brainwash me. And if one of my friends from the book club ever saw me going in there..."

 

I huffed as I shook my head.  "Come on, Claire! Will you think about Brad for a change, and not your image?  It's not like that at all! No one goes there to judge you.  It's just a place to talk things out, and learn to accept others' differences.  I'm sure you're not the only one having problems coming to grip with this revelation about your son being gay.  And I bet you would be surprised just how many of your so-called ‘friends' have a similar situation." 

 

She eyed me suspiciously.  "How do YOU know so much about it?"

 

I squirmed slightly in my seat.  "Well...You know I do a lot of reading," I told her, not sure why I wasn't just being frank about Justin telling me.  I shrugged. "It's common knowledge." 

 

She scoffed. "Well, not to me." She paused, considering my words.  "PFLAG, huh?"

 

I nodded. 

 

"Well...I'll think about it," she finally acquiesced as I nodded back at her before standing up. 

 

"Well, if this conversation is over, I've got to leave. I have a meeting with my investment banker on Wall Street in an hour, and with the traffic in Manhattan this time of day, I'll barely make it as it is."  I peered over at my younger sister sympathetically, knowing what a shock this must be for her.  "Just think about what I said, okay?"  She nodded glumly back at me as I gave her a peck on the cheek.  "I'll walk you out."  I turned to peer over at Debbie.  "Will you...?"

 

"Yeah, yeah, I know the drill," Debbie interrupted me. 

 

I glanced over at the dog, who was sleeping peacefully now in her monogrammed dog bed that I had set up in a corner of the living room, her gums slightly flapping as she breathed in and out.  _Who would have known that Gucci made dog beds?_ But it didn't take long for me to discover that they did...to Debbie's amusement; she had taken great enjoyment in pointing that out to me.  I wasn't about to admit to her, however, how quickly Mrs. Kinney had latched herself onto me in very short order. 

 

Debbie placed her hands on her hips as she recited to me, "Watch over the spoiled princess until you get back, and ask James to take her out for her morning potty run.  Oh, and one dog biscuit at 10:00.  Got it." 

 

I smiled back at her a little sheepishly. "Thanks, Deb," I replied sincerely as she shook her head good-naturedly.  I impulsively leaned done to softly rub Mrs. Kinney's head before taking Claire by the elbow to lead her out of the penthouse. 

 

* * *

_The Next Morning...Central Park_

I arrived a little earlier than normal at my and Justin's bench, wondering if he would show up this time.  I realized yesterday that I really had no way of contacting him.  I didn't have his cell number or address.  All I knew was that he lived somewhere nearby, no doubt someplace not nearly as ostentatious as my penthouse.  By the comfortable way Justin dressed, I don't quite see him as one of the typical ‘starving artists,' but he didn't appear overly affluent, either.  I actually kind of liked the way he dressed in a casual, understated way. It fit him somehow...and it made me wonder sometimes if I was too _much_ of a stuffed shirt.  Being the perfectionist that I was, however, it was hard for me to break out of my shell, and to let go of any control.  That included everything about me, from the time I got up in the morning, to the way I organized everything in my life, and even to the way I dressed.  But sometimes after being with him and noticing the joy he radiated whenever we talked, I found myself wondering what it might be like to just let go a little.  I snorted at the notion of ‘letting go.' When did I become such a prude about being spontaneous? 

 

I didn't have any more time to ponder that as Mrs. Kinney began to wag her tail furiously at my feet and let forth with a joyous yelp, which could only mean one thing. Inexplicably my heart began to hammer in my chest as I looked up and caught Justin's eye.  When he smiled back at me with such warmth, I felt something I couldn't describe come over me, and it made me extremely confused.  _Why was he having this effect on me?_   But I didn't have a chance to think any more about it as he walked up to me.

 

"Hi!" he cheerfully greeted me with a grin as he hurriedly tied Reggie to the other bench leg. 

 

I smiled. "Hello, yourself." I paused before adding, "What happened to you and Reggie yesterday?" 

 

"I know, I'm sorry," he replied as he sat down next to me.  "I had a dentist appointment, and I totally forgot to let you know about it the other day. Sorry about that."  He smiled back at me.  "So you missed me?" 

 

I shuffled a little uncomfortably in my seat as I thought about an appropriate reply.  "No, but Mrs. Kinney missed Reggie." 

 

He chuckled.  "Only that?" he asked softly, his eyes boring into mine.  

 

I looked away.  "What other reason could there be?"  I made a pretense of wiping the seat beside me of pretend dust. 

 

"Oh, no other reason, I guess," he answered after a few seconds.  "Uh...."

 

I turned when I sensed his hesitation.  "Yeah?" 

 

Now HE appeared uncomfortable when he bit his lower lip.  "I was wondering..."

 

My brows lifted curiously.  "Wondering...?" I prodded.

 

"Well...since we're friends and all...We ARE friends, right?" 

 

I had to smile at that.  I could at least admit that.  "Of course," I found myself telling him. 

 

He nodded.  "Good.  Then I was wondering if you would like to have dinner with me."

 

My heart skidded in my chest as I choked back, "Dinner?" 

 

He grinned. "Yes," he laughed - a little nervously, I thought.  "Just dinner.  I'd like to show you my place," he added.  "And I happen to be a pretty good cook, by the way." 

 

I thought I could see a little tinge of awkwardness appear on his cheeks as I thought about the ramifications of ‘dinner.'  He said it was JUST ‘dinner.'  What was wrong with having a meal with a new friend?  Hadn't I just got through telling my sister that it didn't matter if someone was straight or gay?  It was just two friends having dinner; nothing more than that, right?  So I finally nodded.  "Okay," I told him.  "I'd like that."

 

He seemed pleased as he nodded back with a warm smile.  "Great," he told me, brushing his palms up and down his denim legs.  "Well, then....7:00 o'clock tomorrow?" 

 

I nodded.  "Sounds fine."

 

He nodded back at me and flashed another grin at me.  "Well...I'd better get going," he told me unexpectedly.  "I have to help Daphne get ready for one of her shows tonight." 

 

I frowned.  "Daphne?  Shows? What _sort_ of shows?"

 

"Oh, she's a set designer," he told me.  "She arranges the display of photography and art exhibits around the city. She's even helped staged one that I participated in.  And she's a wonderful photographer herself."

 

I raised my eyebrow.  "Your paintings were in a show?"

 

He nodded at me.  "Yeah."  He appeared embarrassed as he explained, "So far, it's only been the one show." He seemed to brighten a bit as he added, "But I've managed to sell a few paintings on my own online, and during the show I sold almost all of them, so who knows?  It takes time to establish yourself here."

 

"That it does," I agreed.  "In art AND in advertising." 

 

He grinned.  "In EVERYTHING here."

 

I chuckled.  "Yeah, I guess you have a point."  I watched then as he stood up, feeling disappointed that he had to go so soon.

 

He reached over to untie Reggie's leash, his back to me, and I found myself fixated on his ass again for some reason.  _Oh, my God. What was wrong with me?_ I wondered as he turned to stand back up and face me. I quickly disguised my emotions as best I could as I replied, "Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow morning, then." 

 

To my surprise, he shook his head no.  "No, I'm sorry. I mean, I would, but I have to get my hair cut tomorrow morning, and it's the only time my friend Emmett can do it.  He does it for free before his salon opens," he explained.  He pulled on a golden strand as he added, "It's getting too shaggy." 

 

"I like it long," I blurted out before I even knew what I was saying.  "It...becomes you." 

 

I definitely saw him blush then as he murmured self-consciously, "Thanks."  He took a deep breath. "Well, then, I'll see you tomorrow night?" 

 

I nodded.  "7:00 sharp."

 

He laughed.  "Naturally. I wouldn't see you do it any other way." 

 

"Hey!" I protested, but I knew he was right.   _How did he know me so well already?_   "Okay, then.  Just for that, I'll be there at 7:05.  Oh, and by the way, I might need to know your address." 

 

I watched him blush - thinking to my surprise how attractive it made him - as he replied, "That might help, wouldn't it?  I watched him dig in his pocket to locate a piece of scratch paper and a stubby pencil as he hastily scrawled his address on it.  I idly noticed how long his lashes were as he looked down while he wrote, and I quickly averted my gaze sideways as he finished.

 

"Here."  As I reached out to take it, our fingers brushed lightly together and for some odd reason it made my skin tingle in reaction.  "It's nothing fancy.  Not like where you live, I'm sure..."

 

I shook my head.  "That doesn't matter.  It would be hard to compare _anything_ to where I live.  I'm sure it'll be fine," I hastened to add, thinking that might have sounded a little pompous. "I'll bring some wine," I offered, knowing I had way too much as it was in my chilled wine room back at the penthouse.  "Fish or chicken?" 

 

For some reason, he blushed even harder over that statement, causing me to furrow my brow slightly in confusion.  What had I said to make him look so embarrassed? 

 

He cleared his throat.  "Uh...neither, actually.  I thought some Italian?" 

 

I smiled, pleased.  "Sounds good," I told him.  "I love Italian food. Then red it is." 

 

He nodded back at me with a slight smile.  "Great; thanks.  Come on, Reggie," he called out softly to the pug as he turned to go.  "See you tomorrow," he told me as I nodded, watching the two of them go and wondering just what I had gotten myself into. 

 


	3. A Little Dinner...and A Little Learning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian and Justin prepare for their dinner, but in much different ways.

_Evening - Brian's Master Bedroom_

I couldn't help grinning in amusement toward the foot of my bed as I heard soft snoring coming from Mrs. Kinney. I realized how much the little scoundrel had managed to secure a place in my bedroom each night now.  How things had changed since that first day!  I wasn't about to tell Claire, though, how much I actually enjoyed having her company in bed with me now.  I smiled at her fondly.  She certainly seemed quite comfortable lying on my expensive duvet. 

 

Turning back to what I was doing, I picked up the remote for my TV and pressed the ‘on' button, intending to watch a few minutes of the news headlines before I went to sleep.  My companion continued to snore blissfully unaware at my feet as I surfed the channels before pausing on one in particular.  _What in the hell am I doing?_ I couldn't help thinking, as my thumb hovered over the ‘pay' button. I stared at the title on the screen for what must have been a full thirty seconds before muttering, "Fuck it," pressing the red ‘authorize' button and scooting back farther against the bed's headboard as I waited for the movie to begin.  "Movie" was being too generous, I discovered after a couple of minutes.  There was no plot whatsoever with this film parodying the REAL _Officer and a Gentleman._ Some hokey, trumpet-laced porno music was playing in the background as the scene opened in a recruitment center in some nondescript strip mall where an innocent-looking, young blond man walked in to inquire about signing up for the Army.  A few minutes later, I figured out how apt a description ‘strip mall' was, as I observed the uniformed recruiter push the would-be ensign over the front of his desk, yank his pants down to pool at his feet, and then quickly use his other hand to pull his own pants down to his thighs.  Within seconds, a tube of lubricant had miraculously appeared, along with a condom, and he was ramming his hard cock into the other man, rocking his hips as he thrust in and out of him while the young blond moaned and held on for dear life, clutching the corners of the desk as flyers scattered everywhere.  _Army Strong_ suddenly took on a whole new meaning for me. 

 

My eyes grew wide as saucers, along with another part of my anatomy.  _What the fuck?_   My breath caught in my throat as I watched the screen intently before hurriedly pressing the ‘off' button on my remote.  I sat there, panting, wondering what was going on.  Because to my astonished surprise, not only was my heart racing faster than a Mach 1 fighter jet in my chest, but my cock was hard as steel and throbbing painfully inside my sleep pants.  I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the vision I had just seen in my head while I watched the film - but it was no use; it only made it even MORE vivid.  I was forced to admit that while the big, beefy recruiter was fucking his visitor to within an inch of his life, I was envisioning the same thing happening to ME...only it was with _another_ blond that I knew.  A MALE blond, not some vacuous-headed female.  I opened my eyes back up to refocus, my chest heaving still, as I swallowed hard at the realization.  The realization that I was attracted to the man I had become friends with at the park. The man I would be having dinner with tomorrow night.  _This can't be happening_ , I thought.  I refused steadfastly to psychoanalyze the reasons why as I carefully slid off the bed so as not to disturb my sleeping companion, heading toward the master bedroom shower to take care of my problem and wondering what in the hell I was going to do about tomorrow night. 

 

Ten minutes later after a mind-numbing release in the shower as I thought once more of the beautiful companion I had befriended, I found that sleep would be a long time coming that night. And when it did - against my control - my dreams focused on one particular man.

* * *

_Same Evening - Justin's apartment - Justin's POV_

Walking into my modest apartment, I greeted Reggie at the door and - as my usual custom - dropped my set of keys into a small, green bowl located on the hall table.  "Hey, Boy!" I greeted the pug, scooping him up into my arms and giggling when he began to furiously lick my face.  "Okay, okay! I'm glad to see you, too."  Grinning, I gently placed Reggie back onto the floor as I looked over at my answering machine and noticed the message light blinking.  I had meant to remove the landline totally, and just rely on my cellphone. God knows it would be less expensive not to have two phones, but to my dismay I found out that the reception inside my fourth-floor apartment was poor at best, so a landline was still a necessity.  Leafing through the mail I retrieved from my jacket pocket, I hit the ‘play' button. 

 

_"You have two messages."_

 

The first one was from my mom; her obligatory, weekly ‘how are you doing?' call.  I rolled my eyes before deleting it, knowing if I didn't call her sometime tonight, she would likely go into a panic while her ‘baby boy' was out in the big, bad world known as New York City, even though I had been here now for over a year.  The next message made me stop in my tracks. 

 

"Justin, it's Derrick.  Listen, I was wondering if we could get together sometime.  I...I miss you. Call me, okay?" 

 

I sighed, a little surprised to hear from my ex-boyfriend, but then again, not all THAT surprised.  Derrick was a good man, a kind man, and had always treated me with respect. The biggest problem, though, was that after only a month of dating, he had not only asked me to move in with him, but he had professed his undying love for me.  Despite not having led him on, that had caused me to admit to him that while I liked him and admired him, I did not love him; nor did I think over time - as he told me he hoped - I would fall in love with him, either.  I just realized after several dates that, while he and I shared a good physical chemistry in bed, there was no spark, no flame when we were intimate.  It was just...nice.  He had sworn to me when we first had sex that he would NOT read more into it more than there was - two men satisfying their physical urges and seeking a mutually pleasant release. But Derrick had promptly admitted after only a few times that he was hopelessly in love with me.  It was then that I had to break things off. It had been painful and awkward, but we had parted as friends. Now, however, it seemed he still couldn't accept that that was _all_ we would be.  "Oh, Derrick," I murmured sadly as I headed toward my small living room.  I was just about to plop down onto my couch when I heard a familiar knocking - only my best friend used the corny ‘shave and a haircut' knock.  I grinned.  "It's open!" I shouted as Reggie ran to the door to see who it was.

 

"Hey, Reg!" Daphne greeted him congenially, bending down to let the dog lick her on the cheek briefly as she rubbed him behind his ears.  "Okay! Go get your ball!"  Immediately Reggie ran off toward the last known location of his favorite tennis ball; he knew Daphne would play with him until one or the other of them was worn out from the effort.  "Hey!" she greeted me with a grin as she stood in the hallway, waiting for Reggie to reappear. The sound of clacking toenails on my wooden floor signaled that his reappearance was imminent, as he rushed up to her and dropped the ball at her feet. Throwing it toward the kitchen, she asked me, "Got any Moscato?" 

 

"Fridge door," I told her as she nodded, coming back in about a minute later with two glasses. She set them down onto the coasters lying on my coffee table as she gave me a peck on the cheek.

 

"How did it go with the interviews?"  Daphne had been searching for a personal assistant for the past week, but so far she had found fault with all of them. Not that she was picky, mind you...Even though Ms. Finicky must have interviewed at least 15 by now.  She surprised me this time, however.

 

"I found him!" she exclaimed excitedly.  "Last one I interviewed today. He's perfect." 

 

I arched my eyebrow.  "So it's a him?" 

 

She nodded. 

 

"Must be cute, then."  I laughed as she smacked me on the arm, but I knew I had hit the mark when her face turned red.

 

"That had nothing to do with his qualifications," she insisted as I grinned.

 

"Oh, I'm sure it didn't. But I still bet he's cute...isn't he?" I couldn't help asking. 

 

She grinned back at me.  "Well..."

 

"I knew it!  You are so transparent!" 

 

"As if YOU wouldn't be swayed by a hot body!" she argued as she shoved me playfully.  Her expression grew more serious as she added softly, "You're alone far too much now with Derrick out of the picture.  You need to stop working so hard, and get laid to relieve some of your tension."  She began to knead my shoulders as she added, "Your muscles are so tight.  Damn, Justin!" 

 

"Don't take offense, Daph, but you're not the person I would like to hear that from."

 

She stopped her ministrations to pull back and look at me.  "Do you mean there IS someone?  There's finally life A.D?"  Daphne hadn't cared too much for Derrick while we had been dating, so anytime she referred to him now, it was usually as A.D. - after Derrick.

 

My expression must have given me away, because her face broke out into a surprised but delighted smile as she exclaimed excitedly, "Oh, my God!  Dish!  Tell me all about him!  Where did you meet? What's his name? What does he look like?"

 

"Slow down!  It's not like that," I hedged. _Why had I even said what I had said?  Was it because deep down I needed to talk to someone about Brian?_

"What do you mean, ‘it's not like that?'  Like what?" she pressed me.  "It IS a guy, right?  I mean, you haven't turned into a switch hitter or something, have you?  Because if you have, Justin Taylor, I am next in line."

 

I laughed. "Come on, Daphne! You know me better than that.  And don't look disappointed; didn't you just get through telling me that the guy you hired was cute?"

 

"No, YOU said that.  And don't change the subject." 

 

I sighed.  I had brought it up; now I had to follow through.  Her brown eyes bored into mine; I knew that look. She wouldn't quit badgering me until I told her the whole story. The only problem was, I wasn't sure what the story WAS...not really. 

 

"Well?  I'm waiting."  She placed her wine glass down on my coffee table and crossed her arms as she looked at me expectantly. 

 

"Okay, okay.  Yes, he's a guy.  A very handsome guy, as a matter of fact."  That fact hadn't gone unnoticed by me; even if the guy was straight, that still didn't mean I couldn't do a little window shopping. 

 

"Good! That's a start. I would expect nothing less from you. I always told you that you could do better than...what's his name." 

 

I gave her a long-suffering look.  "Daphne..."  I shook my head in exasperation.  "Okay.  I met this guy at the park about a week ago when I was walking Reggie.  Turns out he was doing the same thing, and we happened to wind up at the same park bench.  And while Reggie was getting acquainted with his dog...I was getting acquainted with the dog's owner."  I couldn't help smiling at the memory. 

 

Daphne folded her legs under her on the couch, which always signified that she was getting comfortable. That also meant that she had no intention of leaving anytime soon.  "Go on," she urged me with a pointed look.   "What's he look like? What's he do for a living?  Where does he live?  What's his name? Does he have good taste in dogs?" 

 

"You are an absolute freak," I kidded her with a laugh as she smiled back at me playfully.  I let out a deep breath.  "His name is Brian," I began, picturing him in my mind.  "He has chestnut brown hair, hazel eyes, he's tall, lean, but toned, and has this smoky type of voice..."  My heart thumped just at the thought.

 

Daphne's eyes sparkled with glee.  "Ooh...I'm liking him already.  Tell me more." 

 

I shook my head in amusement.  "He used to own an advertising agency in mid-town Manhattan..."

 

"What do you mean, ‘used to?'  He doesn't anymore?" 

 

I shook my head.  I could almost hear the screech that was about to come when I told her the rest.  "No. He sold his company and is retired now.  He lives in a penthouse overlooking the park, and yes, he has very good taste in dogs.  He owns a pedigreed white, French bulldog." 

 

I winced and covered my ears as, sure enough, Daphne let forth with a shriek as she tackled me on the couch.  "Oh, my God!  You hit the jackpot, Justin!"  All of a sudden, though, she let go of me to stare back at me warily.  "Wait a minute!  He's retired? How old IS this guy?  Is this some old married guy trying to keep his sexuality a secret, and he's hitting on a sweet, young thing to get his rocks off?"

 

"Daphne!  Of course not!  He's not THAT old!  In fact, he's gorgeous."  And he was; there was no denying it.

 

" _How_ old, Justin?" 

 

I squirmed under her scrutiny. "I think he just turned forty." 

 

"Forty?  FORTY?  Justin!  That's just this side of a nursing home!"

 

I couldn't help laughing over her melodrama. "No, Daphne, he's amazing!  It's not _that_ big a difference!  We've done a lot of talking together, and he's very intelligent and charming.  He is so knowledgeable about current affairs, and he's an amateur writer, so he's creative, too.  When I'm with him, I don't really notice the age difference."  I paused before revealing to her, "I've asked him to come here for dinner tomorrow night." 

 

Her eyes widened as her face broke out into a delighted smile.  "You did?"

 

I nodded.

 

I watched as Daphne's eyes narrowed in suspicion as I averted my eyes.  _Damn girl. She always knew how to get to the bottom of things, and I suspected this would be no different._

 

I didn't have long to wait.  "What aren't you telling me, Justin?  He sounds too good to be true." 

 

"There is just one, tiny, little problem..."

 

Daphne pressed her lips together in exasperation.  "Out with it!"

 

I laughed nervously at her. "Funny you would put it that way, because...he's straight." 

 

"What?!  Are you out of your mind, Justin?  You can't make someone change their sexual orientation just by cooking them some linguini!"

 

"Well, I happen to make some damn good linguini, as you well know," I pointed out, trying to lighten the mood.  But of course she wasn't buying it.  "Daphne...He TELLS me that he's straight. But I get this vibe from him...and these looks he gives me when he doesn't think I'm noticing.  He told me that his sister keeps trying to match him up with all these snobby, rich, blueblood women, but he says so far she hasn't found one that he's interested in.  _I_ think it's because he's confused and he doesn't know WHAT he wants." 

 

She reached to grab her wine glass and took a sip as she studied me.  "And you think you can help him figure out what he DOES want?  Justin, he's forty years old! Don't you think he would know whether he was attracted to men or women by now?  He'd have to be the oldest virgin in Manhattan otherwise!  Maybe on the entire planet Earth!" 

 

I shrugged.  "I know it sounds ridiculous, and I think he would deny it. But I swear, Daphne! There is something there between us. I can feel it...and I think HE can feel it, too.   But...I'm afraid..."

 

Daphne's voice softened as she asked me, "Afraid of what? Making the first move and being rejected?"

 

A lump formed in my throat as I nodded.  "Yeah...I would never force him to do something he didn't want to do...and I won't. But what if I'm wrong? What if I come onto him, what if I flirt with him, and he looks at me like I've lost my mind? Or worse yet, he thinks I'm some pervert or something, chasing after some rich sugar daddy? What if he recoils from me, and tells me that I'm totally wrong about him?"

 

"I guess that's up to you," she told me quietly.  "You're attracted to him?" 

 

I nodded, swallowing hard.  "Yes," I whispered honestly.  "I was attracted to him from the first day we met. And the more I get to know him, and the more I learn about him...the more fascinated I become."  I groaned.  "I don't know what got into me!  But the invitation to dinner just slipped out!  And he said _yes_ , Daph! That has to mean something, doesn't it?" 

 

"Maybe," she conceded.  "You always did have a good sense of judging people...except for that simpering puppy dog you just got through dating."

 

"Daphne, there's nothing wrong with Derrick," I defended him stiffly.  "I just wasn't in love with him."

 

"And being the true romantic that you are, you can't have a lasting relationship with someone unless you love him; yeah, yeah, I know."   She sighed as she looked over at me sympathetically, placing her hand on my wrist.  "Just be careful, Justin. Don't get too involved with him, and don't get your hopes up.  He told you that he's straight.  Don't try to make him into something that he's not." 

 

"It's just dinner," I insisted.  But my words rang hollow even to myself.  "That's it." 

 

"Uh, huh," she answered, definitely not sounding convinced.  "Well, I expect a full report afterward, Mister."  She rose to her feet after placing the wine glass back down, arching her back to stretch it.  "God, I hate sitting down all day long, going over proofs!  With this new hire, though, he can do a lot of that for me.  He can examine the photos and pick out the best ones to use...while I study HIM." 

 

I chuckled as I rose from my seat and stood next to her.  I reached to give her a hug, holding her tight.  "I don't know what I would do without you," I murmured.  "You keep me sane." 

 

She pulled back to grin at me.  "Don't forget!  I want to hear all about it! And if you don't get back to me until later...then I'll know you were right about him." She winked at me meaningfully.

 

My face quickly turned red.  "Daphne! I _told_ you! It's just _dinner_!"

 

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that..." She was clearly not convinced.  "Okay, whatever you say.  I have to run!" She turned to go before hesitating to ask, "By the way, does this outfit make me look fat?  You didn't say anything about it when I came in."

 

I rolled my eyes.  "Oh, is that new?"  I laughed as she punched me in the arm.  "Come on, Daphne! You don't have an ounce of fat on you, and you know it."

 

She huffed.  "I didn't ask you if I was fat; I asked if this made me LOOK fat."

 

I shook my head in amusement. "Get out," I told her as she grinned.  "Go."  I began to push her toward the door as she laughed at me.

 

"In a hurry, are you?  Better check your condom supply before the big date tomorrow."

 

"Bye, Daphne!" I opened the door and practically pushed her out into the hallway, hearing her laughter through the door as I braced my back against the wall nearby and groaned.  _What in the hell was I doing?_   But it was too late now.  One thing was certain, though; whatever happened, tomorrow night should turn out to be quite interesting. 

 

* * *

 

_5 p.m. - Justin's apartment- Justin's POV_

I tore off the plastic wrapping from the flower bouquet I had bought at the street vendor's a short while ago, and after filling up one of my vases I retrieved from under the sink, I placed them as artistically as possible in the container before setting them in the middle of my small dining table.  The two candles I had placed next to it were ready to be lit, the dishes, cutlery, and stemware were lying in their etiquette-correct positions, and my linguini with clam sauce was warming in a pot on the stove.  All I had left to do after getting dressed was prepare the salad, get the wine out of the refrigerator, and place the bread into the oven to bake. 

 

I bit my lip as I looked around the room to make sure everything was the way I wanted it.  My apartment was rather small by anyone's standards, but it was comfortable and tastefully decorated with items I had found at various thrift shops around town.  My artistic eye had served me well, I thought.  It would never be highlighted in any _Home & Garden_ magazine, but I had used the space as efficiently as I could, and it suited me.  I wondered how my guest would feel about it, though; no doubt Brian could probably fit ten of my one-bedroom apartment inside his penthouse.  Glancing up at the clock above my kitchen sink, I realized time was running out before Brian would arrive. The mere thought made my stomach clench with a mixture of anxiety and excitement.  _It's just dinner_ , I kept telling myself. But deep down, I knew it was more than that, at least for me.  Would it be for my guest as well?

 

I didn't have time to ponder that much longer, however; I had to take a shower and get dressed.  Stopping just long enough to turn the oven on to preheat, I hurried into the bathroom. 

 

* * *

 

"So, what do you think, Reg?  Do I look presentable?"  I grinned as he let forth with a single bark as if he understood everything I was saying. Perhaps he did.  "Well, it'll have to do," I decided as I ran my brush through my hair one last time.  I had elected to wear a pair of beige, linen pants, topped with a dark-blue, long-sleeved shirt.  Actually, it was the fifth outfit I had tried on; nothing seem to satisfy me tonight. But I also knew I didn't have any more time to debate it.  In less than fifteen minutes, my dinner date should be arriving. 

 

_Dinner date_.  Even though I had reassured Daphne that tonight was going to be just a way to enjoy some good conversation and perhaps also impress Brian with my cooking skills, I knew deep down I was hoping it would be more.  Just the thought of that man being in my apartment made my stomach do somersaults and my palms sweat.  "Great," I muttered as I hurried into my modest bathroom and washed my hands before reaching for a cloth to dry them.  "That would be real impressive."  I sighed as Reggie came trotting over to me and stood in the doorway, cocking his head to the side in curiosity. 

 

"What am I doing, boy?" I asked him.  "I hope I'm not making a huge, fucking mistake," I murmured, snorting at my choice of words, because that's exactly what it might turn out to be.  Shaking my head in disgust, I turned and headed out of the bathroom and toward the kitchen before I changed my mind one more time about my choice of clothing, and to make sure I didn't manage to burn my dinner, too. 

 

* * *

_Forty-five minutes earlier - Brian's penthouse - Brian's POV_

Fresh out of the shower and with a thick, blue towel tied loosely around my hips, I slid open my side closet where I kept my shirts and studied them.  As usual, each one was hung precisely in the same way and at the same distance from each other, all of them crisply ironed by Debbie to my exact standards.  The shirts were mainly of the same design and categorized by color, beginning with white and then moving gradually to light-colored shades and finally ending up with the black ones on the opposite side.  In the other closet next to this one I had grouped my pants in much the same manner:  hung uniformly together by category, color, and style.  My shoes were carefully displayed in individual wooden niches in another closet, with my socks and underwear neatly folded in my two top dresser drawers. 

 

Yes, everything was nice and neat and orderly.  Everything, that is, except for the thoughts of indecision swirling around in my mind, and the queasiness I felt in my stomach. _Was I getting sick?_   I had felt fine up until about thirty minutes ago - about the time I had headed into the master bathroom to take my shower.  Also about the same time I had started thinking about my imminent dinner with my park bench companion.  _Snap out of it, Kinney_ , I chided myself.  _It's just a fucking dinner_.  God knows I had been to plenty of dinners in my lifetime, and for various reasons.  To my surprise, however, I realized that - except for occasional dinners with Claire and her son - I had never really had dinner with someone merely for pleasure and not for business. What did that say about me?  "Maybe it says I'm boring...and people are only after one thing from me; no, make that _two_ things:  either money or my name."  I glanced down in the door's mirrored panel, noticing Mrs. Kinney staring back at me with her dark, luminous eyes.  I smiled as I turned and stooped down to scoop her up into my arms.  "Is that what you think, too, Mrs. Kinney?  At least I know YOUR motives are sincere...as long as I keep you well-supplied with doggie treats and your favorite toys."  I laughed as she promptly licked me on the cheek before I had a chance to react.  "Stop that," I told her, holding her out from my body just enough to avoid the next lick.  "I have to get dressed, and I don't want dog slobber all over my good shirt."  I gently placed her back down, watching her scamper off, no doubt toward one of her toys, since I had just mentioned them. _She was a smart little pooch,_ I couldn't help thinking with a grin as I turned my attention back to my closet.

 

Ten minutes later, I stood in front of the dresser mirror, studying my neat-as-a-pin look. It was my typical style; even when it wasn't business, and even when I walked Mrs. Kinney - everything was in place with not a button undone, shirt tails neatly tucked into my pants with my standard leather belt, my shoes perfectly polished, and not a hair out of place.  It had been that way for years, ever since I could remember. So as I stood there, why did I feel like some straight-laced bureaucrat, heading off to a high-priced meeting on Wall Street?  Justin never dressed to impress me, even though he always looked very neat and clean.  He was definitely not a label queen with any stretch of the imagination, I thought, but perhaps that was due to our differences in income. Something told me, though, that even if he had a great deal of wealth, he would still dress the same.  Standing there for a few moments, I impulsively reached to unbutton the top two buttons of my black shirt, exposing just a bit of my toned skin underneath.  I felt strangely vulnerable this way, but kind of liberating, too.  Taking a deep breath, I snatched up my keys lying on the dresser and headed down the hall. 

 

"Now you behave while I'm gone," I told Mrs. Kinney, finding her sitting in her monogrammed dog bed, a rawhide stick propped up between her front paws as she gnawed away.  Smiling, I walked over to stroke her head.  "I'll be home later," I assured her as I turned a nearby light on.  Picking up the remote to the wired stereo system, I turned on a classical music station on low to help keep her company before quietly walking over to my front door, grabbing the chilled bottle of wine as promised, and heading outside at precisely 6:53 p.m., having already calculated online how long it would take for the driver to take me over to Justin's apartment and arrive there by 7:05 p.m. 

 

Twelve minutes later - after the driver threaded through some extremely thick traffic, even for Manhattan - I emerged from the back of the Lexus, the butterflies still skittering around furiously in my stomach as I wished I could have a couple drinks from the bottle of wine I was tightly gripping.  Steeling myself, I walked confidently up to the door of the rather nondescript, five-story building, noticing no one outside to let me in.  Well, what did I expect? After all, this obviously wasn't some luxury structure.  It was one of the myriad of brownstones that fed off from the main drag around Central Park.  I had to admit, though, that the shady street and neat-looking buildings were charming in a way. 

 

Opening up the door, I searched for Justin's name, finding it on the fourth floor.  Pressing the button, I breathed deeply in and out to try and relax, wondering why in the hell I was so nervous in the first place.  It was no big deal...right?  The crackling of the speaker pulled me back to the present as I heard the subject of my thoughts speaking.  "Brian?" 

 

"No, it's Donald Trump," I quipped with a grin, hearing him snort on the other end.

 

"Well, then, by all means come on up. I could use a loan." 

 

I chuckled.  "I'll be right there," I told him as I turned to head over to an old-fashioned elevator; the kind where you had to push the metal screen upward in order to enter.  Wondering about the safety of such a contraption, nevertheless I stepped inside, closed the door, and said a prayer that I wouldn't wind up flatter than a pancake as I pushed the button for the fourth floor. 

 

* * *

 

A couple of minutes later - to my great relief - I arrived on the correct floor safe and sound.  Repeating the same procedure in reverse this time as I exited, I looked right and left, trying to find the correct apartment number.  I could only see three doors on this floor, so it wasn't hard to spot Justin's apartment at the far end.  Taking another deep breath, I glanced quickly at the decorative mirror hanging opposite the elevator - satisfied that I still looked sufficiently presentable - before I walked down the short hallway toward his door, the old, wooden floor creaking under my weight.  "Haven't they heard of nails around here?" I muttered as I reached his door.  Holding onto the wine bottle with one hand, I held my other hand up and hesitated a few seconds before rapping on the door three times, my heart beginning to beat faster than a hummingbird's wings.  _What was wrong with me??_

 

I didn't have any more time to think about it as I heard footsteps approaching, and then what sounded like a deadbolt and chain being slid back before the door opened and I came face to face with my park bench companion.  He smiled at me - a little nervously, I thought, but I wasn't sure - as I smiled back at him, my eyes almost involuntarily traveling down his body to admire his casual outfit.  He was wearing a light brown pair of pants and a dark-blue shirt that seemed custom-fitted to him and made his blue eyes sparkle.  "Hey," I greeted him, wondering why this man was affecting me so much.  I had never had this type of reaction to a woman before, much less a man. 

 

"Hey," he replied in kind.  "Come on in," he invited me as I nodded and walked inside as Reggie came bounding up to me excitedly.  I couldn't help laughing as he began to snort furiously as he jumped up and down on his feet and danced around in circles in front of me.

 

"Reggie, enough, boy!" Justin gently chided him, stooping down to pick up the stocky canine.  "Sorry," he apologized.  "I think he was hoping you had brought his playmate with him.  You could have, you know.  What's one more dog?  You'll have to do that next time.  I'll go put him in the spare bedroom for now; I'm embarrassed to say it's more like HIS bedroom, with all his toys in there.  I'll be right back."  I watched him walking away and found myself unable to take my eyes off the round ass that was so firmly encased in the pants he wore.  _My God. Where did THAT come from?_ I wondered, squeezing my eyes shut in confusion before opening them back up.  He had said _next time_. That part did not go unnoticed by me. Did he think this was going to be the start of some long-term type of relationship?  Perhaps it already was, I considered.  After all, we pretty much had a standing date to meet at the park bench each morning, although he had missed that one day.  I had to admit that I had missed seeing HIM that day. 

 

I looked up as he returned to my side and I held out the wine bottle to him.  "Thanks," he told me.  "Come and sit down; I almost have dinner ready.  I hope you like linguini." 

 

I nodded.  "Sure do.  Anything I can help you with?" 

 

He seemed to consider for a moment before he replied, "You could pour the wine.  The glasses are above the stove." 

 

I nodded, following him down the short hallway until we came to an opening to our right, where a small combination kitchen/dining room area was situated.  I took a glance around the room, impressed with how he had designed a fairly chic-looking spot from such a small area.  "This is nice," I told him.

 

He beamed at me, catching me off guard with the intensity of his smile.  I had seen him smile before at the park, but _never_ to this degree, and it made my heart pound. 

 

"Thanks!  I don't have a lot of extra cash at the end of the month, so I can't use it for frivolous things.  Somehow my heat and electricity seem more important," he told me, laughing softly.  "But when I first moved here, I almost lived 24/7 at all the local thrift shops, and that's where I found most of these furnishings.  I got most of them cheap, and then either sanded and repainted them, or repaired them.  I like the older things, anyway; I think they were made a lot better back then." 

 

I nodded. "Well, whatever you did, I think you've definitely made the most of your space.  It looks great," I told him sincerely, earning another smile. 

 

"Thanks.  Uhh...the glasses are over there," he reminded me as I nodded, walking over to retrieve two stemmed wine glasses from the cabinet.   Pouring two glasses full, I placed the wine bottle down on the table and walked the few steps over to him to hand one of them to him. As our fingers grazed each other's just like the other day, I felt the same rush of electricity flow through me, my eyes widening slightly in surprise.  Turning my eyes away slightly, I hurriedly took a large drink from my glass as I observed Justin do the same, unable to avoid watching as his Adam's apple moved when he swallowed.  Blinking as I realized I was practically ogling him, I asked, "Is there anything else I can do?" 

 

He considered that for a moment before replying, "Do you have a lighter?"

 

I shook my head.  "Sorry...gave up smoking about the same time I retired. I decided I'd rather take my chances dying in New York traffic than from lung cancer." 

 

He chuckled.  "Well, I think I might have some matches in my junk drawer over by the fridge," he told me.  "Can you look and see if you can find some to light the candles for me?"

 

I nodded, soon locating a pack of matches with a nearby deli's name on it and taking a few moments to light each of the candles. Making a snap decision, I reached to turn the dimmer switch down located on the wall, casting the room in a warmer glow.  I looked over to see Justin's blond hair gleaming in the candlelight, and his eyes boring into mine.  "I hope that's okay," I told him.

 

He smiled and nodded.  "Of course," he assured me.  "I like it better this way."  He took a couple of plates down from the cabinet over the stove and dished out some of the linguine onto the plates.  "I hope you like shrimp," he asked.  "If you wouldn't mind grabbing the salad and the two dressing bottles, I think we're all set now." 

 

I nodded, walking closer to him to fetch the salad and dressing and follow him over to the table. 

 

"Please...sit down," he urged me as he placed one of the dishes in front of me, along with some warm bread he had retrieved from the oven that was nestled inside a cloth-covered basket.

 

"Hmm...it smells wonderful," I told him as he smiled at me. 

 

"Thanks," he murmured as he sat down next to me.  He bobbed his head.  "Go ahead and try it," he encouraged me as I took a stab of the shrimp and pasta and placed it in my mouth.  My eyes widened in pleasure.

 

"Wow, this is fucking good, Justin," I told him, impressed.

 

He smiled broadly at me in pleasure.  "I'm glad you like it." 

 

I took another sip of my wine, and then broke off some of the warm bread, the two of us eating in companionable silences as we stole glances at each other.  Finally, I placed my fork down.  "So...tell me more about yourself."

 

Justin laughed; it was like that musical sounding laugh from before, and I found myself fascinated.  "What would you like to know?" 

 

I shrugged.  "Whatever you want to tell me." 

 

He nodded as he took another sip of his wine, my eyes unable to take themselves off his lips as they wrapped themselves around the rim of the glass.  Putting his glass down, he replied, "Okay, but only on one condition."

 

"What's that?" 

 

"For everything I tell you about myself, you have to do the same." 

 

I laughed.  "Deal.  You first." 

 

* * *

_Four Hours Later...Justin's POV_

After eating and placing the dishes in the dishwasher, the two of us had wound up sitting on my couch, drinking another glass of wine while my stereo played some sort of lazy music in the background. I had long ago forgotten how many I had had, and I suspected Brian didn't know, either, and the candles had long ago burned out. But between the wine we had drunk, and the shrimp linguine in wine sauce that I had cooked - I was feeling a warm buzz all over, and it had loosened me up tremendously.  I no longer felt nervous around Brian at all, and was enjoying our time together tremendously.  Brian, too, seemed much more at ease now as he relegated me with stories about the pranks he had pulled in his private school in Westchester County.  We sat on both ends of the couch. We weren't touching...but even so, I could almost feel his body heat from where I was perched, my wine glass held in my hand as I balanced it on my knee.

 

"Tell me you didn't!" I exclaimed as he told me about the various unique uses he had found for super glue during his high school years. 

 

He smiled smugly.  "I did," he confirmed.  "And then some.  That shit is strong stuff!" 

 

I laughed.  "Oh, I wish I had gone to school with you," I told him.  "It would have been quite ‘educational.'"  He chuckled at me.  I noticed the bottle of wine had just a small amount left.  "More wine?" I asked him softly as he held up his hand and shook his head. 

 

"Fuck, no," he told me.  "I've had enough." 

 

I nodded, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious.  I had had a marvelous evening with Brian. He was charming, funny, intelligent...and gorgeous eye candy to ogle; he was definitely the stuff that fantasies were made of, and I knew without a doubt that he would be the star attraction in my dreams tonight.  But I _also_ knew he was woefully inexperienced when it came to being with another man...if that was even what he wanted.  I was still sure he was attracted to me; I had seen enough men and the way they looked at me not to be certain of that. But did _Brian_ realize that?  And, more importantly, did he want to do anything about it?  I did not want to spook him.  As much as I knew it would kill me, I would let HIM make the first move.  I just prayed that he would. 

 

"Well..." 

 

"Uhh..."

 

We both laughed as we talked at once.  "You first," I told him softly as he nodded.

 

I watched as he drank the last of his wine and placed the glass down on the coffee table before - to my dismay - he rose to his feet.  "I have enjoyed this evening immensely," he told me.  "But it's getting really late.  I'd better get going."   I thought I could hear regret in his voice.

 

I swallowed my disappointment as I nodded, standing up to face him.  "Thank you for the wine...and the company.  I had a great time."  I paused.  "Maybe we can do this again sometime." 

 

He nodded at me with a smile.  "Yeah...that would be nice." 

 

I nodded back at him as he turned to go, following him over to the door.  Reggie had long ago retired to his favorite dog bed over in the corner, and continued to snore away, oblivious to everything else as we reached the door.  This would be the typical ‘goodnight kiss' stage if I had had any other man here for dinner on a first date; I was the kind to get to know a guy first before proceeding any further.  But I knew this time I wouldn't even get that. I couldn't chance it; not if I had any hope of Brian realizing his feelings for me and acting upon them without scaring him away.  As confident and successful as the man was, he seemed more like a skittish deer than anything as he reached for the door handle and opened the door.  He turned around one last time to face me.

 

"I'll see you tomorrow morning at the park?" 

 

I nodded, forcing a half-smile on my face.  "Sure. See you then."  I held the door open as he walked outside into the hallway, and with a final wave at me, I slowly closed the door, leaning against the smooth surface and letting out a huge sigh.  "Damn...What the hell am I doing?  Way to go," I berated myself.  "You had to go and fall for a closet queer." 

 


	4. Teach Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian and Justin's dinner is over. Or is it?

Shaking my head, I pushed myself off the door and locked it behind me...only to practically jump out of my skin when I heard someone knocking.  Frowning - and refusing to allow any hope to enter my heart - I slowly slid the security lock back and turned the deadbolt to open the door.  My pulse began to race impossibly fast as I encountered Brian standing there.  I frowned.  "Brian? Did you forget something?" 

 

He shook his head at me.  "Not exactly...but there _is_ something I wanted to do...but I was too fucking scared to do it." 

 

My eyes widened as he walked inside and kicked the door shut behind him; as he grasped my upper arms and leaned in closer, I still refused to believe what his intentions were...despite every fiber of my being begging for it.  "What?" I whispered breathlessly, our mouths inches from each other. 

 

"This," he replied huskily, his eyes drifting downward before his lips tentatively touched mine.  It was just a whisper at first, a brush of our mouths together, before he pulled back to stare into my eyes.  "I don't know what the hell I'm doing," he admitted with a nervous sort of laugh.  "I've...I've been with plenty of women.  More than I can count," he told me, making me feel jealous in a weird sort of way.  "But I've never, you know..."

 

I nodded, relishing the feel of his long fingers curled around my upper arms, holding me in place.  Not that I had any intention of going anywhere; just that brief, small kiss has made me feel all sorts of crazy things; illogically wild things.  "I'm attracted to you," I blurted out quietly, needing to be honest.  "But we won't do anything you're not comfortable doing." 

 

"I know," he murmured.  He stared into my eyes for a few seconds before he leaned in to kiss me again; but this time he pressed our lips together more confidently as I sighed into the kiss, angling my head to deepen it slightly as my hand slid up to grip the back of his neck and hold his head more firmly in place.  Before I realized what I was doing, I poked my tongue out just enough to swipe it across his lower lip; I was alarmed that he might become frightened of what I was doing, but then I heard him groan in reaction before he opened his mouth in silent invitation.  I couldn't resist as I slid my tongue inside, tasting him for the first time.  It was a heady feeling as our kiss continued, and I felt encouraged as he wound his arms around my back to press me closer against his chest. 

 

With great reluctance, I finally broke our kiss off after a few more seconds, afraid of going too far, as I rested my hands lightly on top of his shoulders.  His face was flushed and his eyes were darker than normal as he stared at me, his breath coming out in soft pants.

 

"That was..." 

 

I held my breath, waiting for him to continue, to verbalize what he was feeling; to move at his own pace.  His hands were still around my back, and our lower bodies were lightly touching; it was enough, however, for my cock to harden...and to my astonishment as well as delight, I could feel his own pressing against my body, clearly indicating his desire for me.  "What?" I couldn't help asking him, licking my lips nervously.  I thought I saw his eyes darken even further as he slowly lifted them to peer into my own. 

 

He took a deep breath and let it out.  "...amazing," he finally replied.  "Wow." 

 

I smiled at him, relieved.  It wasn't the most passionate of kisses by far, but it was a start. And just feeling his lips on mine for that relatively brief time was enough for me to know that I wanted more; MUCH more.  But the question was...did he?  My heart fell as he dropped his hold on me then...only to reach for my hand and slowly begin to lead me down the hallway, bypassing the kitchen as he headed toward the end of the hall - straight toward my bedroom.  _Oh, my God._ My heart thumped erratically as I pulled on him to stop.  He turned to face me questioningly. 

 

"Brian...are you sure?" I whispered, desperately wanting him to say yes, but knowing I would abide by whatever pace he was comfortable with, even if it meant that the kiss we had just shared was all we were going to experience tonight. 

 

But to my relief, he nodded his head, his hand warm in mine as he continued to grip it firmly.  "I'm sure," he whispered as he pulled me to him until our bodies were pressed closely together; I noticed that despite our difference in height, somehow we fit together perfectly.  "I want you, Justin." 

 

I swallowed hard as I nodded back at him, pecking him softly on the lips before the two of us walked into my modest bedroom.  I silently thanked Daphne for insisting I indulge just enough to get a queen-sized bed, rather than a twin one, even though it practically took up the entire bedroom.  I decided to profusely express my gratitude the next time I saw her, but right now she was the last thing on my mind as Brian and I halted by the side of my bed. I leaned down just enough to turn my bedside light on, the one that emitted a soft glow without being garish, as I nodded slightly at him as if to tell him the next step was up to him.  He licked his lips nervously before he dropped my hand to begin unbuttoning his shirt, my heart racing as more and more of his flat, taut, bronze skin was exposed to my greedy view.  I longed to reach out and help him undress like some much-desired Christmas and birthday package wrapped up all in one, but I sensed he wasn't quite ready for that yet.  Unbuttoning his sleeves, he slid the shirt off his shoulders and let it drop to the floor, finally exposing his lightly-muscled chest for my inspection.

 

God, he was gorgeous. Even more than I had dreamed of, and I had spent many a night imagining what his body looked like under all that high-priced, designer clothing.  I itched to reach out now and unfasten his belt and unzip his pants, to feel what I just knew had to be a glorious cock hiding underneath. But again, I managed to restrain myself, even though my own was throbbing with anticipation.  He appeared almost shy now as I watched his long fingers slowly pull on the belt to loosen it, hearing the buckle emit a clanging noise as it, too, hit the ground.  Biting his lip, he toed off his shoes and pulled his socks off, and I couldn't help thinking that even his feet were elegant.  Now he was left only in his pants and briefs, and I could barely wait to see what other treasure was hiding from my view, but the pace was agony; pure torture. 

 

Finally, the pants were undone, and I watched, entranced, as he curled his hands around the waistband and slowly began to slide the material down his long legs to step out of them, my breath catching in my throat as he was finally, totally exposed to my view.  I gasped, making him lift his gaze to peer over at me, as I stood there still fully clothed but desperately wanting to shed my own pants and shirt, just to feel all that glorious skin on mine.  And I had been right; his full, hard cock was magnificent; long, large, and smooth.  The whole man was a fucking work of art.  "Brian," I couldn't help whispering as his face flushed in reaction to my intense stare.  "You...are you so beautiful." 

 

His face turned red as he stared into my eyes.  "No... _you're_ the beautiful one," he whispered with a smile.  He raked his left hand through his hair, tousling it and making him even MORE sexy to me.  "I...I feel...fuck, I don't know _what_ I feel," he admitted.  "But I do know one thing."

 

I couldn't help staring at him; _all_ of him.  "What?" I asked, holding my breath.  I walked a little closer to him until we were almost touching.  Fuck, I wanted to touch him so much. I wanted to run my hands over every inch of his body, and memorize it like a well-loved map. 

 

"I...I want to see you," he told me, making my own face redden now over the husky tone of his velvet-sounding voice.  Brian has such a gentle voice, a rich voice.  And it made me even harder at the thought of how much he wanted to see ME now. 

 

I reached for my own shirt...only to have Brian reach out and grab my hands.  "No," he explained as I looked at him in surprise.  "I want to do it," he explained.  I nodded, dropping my hands to my side in silent acquiescence.

 

I noticed his hands shaking slightly as he reached over and began to unbutton my shirt, starting at the top and traveling downward, his fingers occasionally brushing against my bare skin and making my breath catch merely from his touch.  As soon as he had finished unbuttoning my shirt, I hurriedly shrugged out of it, excited by the clear look of desire on his face as his hands lightly roamed down my chest.  I gasped as the pads of his fingers brushed over my nipples.  They always had been a particularly sensitive part of my body when I had sex, but I was astounded by how much his touch affected me.  I noticed Brian's eyes widening in shock over my reaction as I deftly slipped out of my shoes and leaned down just long enough to pull my socks off.  As I stood back up to face him, I found that I was the nervous one now. Would I live up to his own standards?  After all, up until now he had only had women to compare against each other.  How was he going to react when he saw all of me? 

 

"Brian," I whispered impatiently.  "Please..."

 

He nodded, seeming to know what I needed, before his fingers reached for the button and zipper of my pants. I silently thanked myself for choosing a pair of pants that didn't need a belt as his fingers pulled open the fly before he slowly slid the zipper down, exposing my white briefs underneath. I could feel my cock growing harder as it struggled to spring out of its trap.  It was all I could do not to pull my pants off myself in record time, but I somehow held back as, finally, Brian's hands gripped my pants and briefs and began to slowly pull them down my legs.  I heard him suck in a breath as my cock was finally exposed to his inspection as he dropped his hold on my clothes so I, too, could step out of them. At last we had no other barriers between us as we stared at each other's bodies. 

 

I saw Brian swallow hard before his hands reached out to begin their initial discovery.  I closed my eyes, desire washing over me, as I felt his fingers lightly tracing my lips, then my jaw, traveling down both of my collar bones and then down my arms.  I shivered and groaned, suddenly feeling the loss of his touch as I reopened my eyes.  "Why did you stop?" I whispered.  "Brian...God, touch me. Please touch me." 

 

"Justin..."

 

I stared into his eyes questioningly, waiting, my breath shallow.  "What?"

 

He flushed.  "I want you to touch me, too," he admitted, his voice deep like velvet. 

 

I smiled in relief as I reached for his hand, gently pulling both of us closer to the bed. Of one accord, we sat down on the bed and kissed again, hungrily this time, before - still kissing - we lay down on the bed side-by-side.  His hands reached out once more to glide across my chest; I arched upward as his fingertips twirled around my nipples again, quickly making them hard and pebbly under his touch.  I marveled at how someone who had never been with a man before could somehow know exactly what to do to pleasure me, but I greedily wanted more.  Just how much would he allow me to do, however?  At that moment, I decided I would take anything he was willing to give me, but I silently pleaded that whatever it turned out to be, it would provide us both with the release we both so desperately needed.  I watched as his pupils dilated in response, his fingers continuing their journey down my chest and toward my navel.  I noticed him stop as the fingers of his left hand brushed against my pubes.  I could his shallow breathing as he stared into my eyes in anticipation. 

 

I reached out to grip his hand in mine, slowly...ever so slowly moving our joined hands lower until they were resting on the hot flesh of my cock.  I hissed at the initial feeling of his fingers curling around my shaft.  "Ahhh...." I moaned as he began to stroke me, making me arch my back in an attempt to push him closer to me.  "That feels so good," I told him as he continued, emboldened, increasing his tempo and the pressure of his touch.  "Keep going," I pleaded, astonished at how alive he made my body feel.  I couldn't wait any longer.  I had to touch him as well.  My hand reached over to trail over his flat stomach, and I heard him gasp in response as his eyes flew open to stare into mine. 

 

Keeping my touch light - and desperately hoping that he would allow my indulgence - I slowly reached lower until I found my target, hearing his sharp intake of breath as I curled my hands around his impressively large cock. 

 

"Oh, God," he moaned as I began to mimic what he was doing to me, sliding my hands up and down his shaft to capture some of the pre-come bubbling out of the tip.  He shivered as my thumb brushed against it, using the fluid to help my hand slide more easily up and down as I, too, increased my speed.  I wanted so badly to take him in my mouth - to taste him deeply - but I was too afraid he would bolt like a spooked stallion.

 

"Does that feel good?" I whispered, my voice low. 

 

"Yesssss," he breathed out.  "Fuck....I never knew it could feel like this..."

 

I smiled at him as our lips met for another kiss before I pulled back to tell him, "It's just the beginning...if you want it to be."  I met his eyes as we continued to pleasure each other, knowing both of us would probably not last very long the first time.  There was always a certain type of exhilaration when I first had sex with someone new. But to my utter astonishment, this incredibly sexy but inexperienced man was taking me to heights of pleasure I didn't even know existed.  If I felt this way merely by him stroking me, I could barely comprehend what it would be like to be inside him...or for him to be inside ME.  I shuddered at the thought as he looked at me uncertainly, worried that he had done something wrong.

 

I reached over with my other hand to place it against his cheek.  "You...you make me feel things...things I have never felt before..."

 

He blushed, his breathing becoming more rapid and shallow.  "I...I never felt this way when I was with any woman.  Never," he murmured in awe.  He gasped as I increased my speed, wanting to put us both over the top so I could explore what other sorts of pleasurable things he wanted to do.  I wanted to experience it all with him. And despite his naivety when it came to this sort of sex, I silently prayed that he would feel the same way. 

 

I could feel his cock throbbing and his breath increasing as I continued to deftly stroke him, unable to take my eyes off the look of ecstasy on his face as he arched his back and moaned.  "Don't hold back, Brian," I begged him, mesmerized by the look on his face.  "That's it," I murmured.  "Do it," I told him.  "Let go.  Fuck, you're so sexy. Come on.  Come for me, Brian."  I heard him cry out then as his body stiffened and he exploded with intense pleasure, his come flooding all over my hand and onto my chest as he let loose, chest heaving furiously as he climaxed. The look of bliss on his face was enough for me, too, to reach orgasm as I cried out his name and came hard, spurting my warm fluid into his hand as he stared over at me in amazement.  

 

We both fell onto our backs, staring up at the ceiling as we tried to suck in some much-needed oxygen.  It took a few minutes before our breathing returned to normal as I turned my head to peer over at Brian, concerned how what we had just done might have affected him. His body was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, making his skin glow under the lighting as his chest continued to rise and fall.  His cock was currently at rest, but he fucking took my breath away.  He didn't realize just how glorious he was.  "You okay?" I asked him softly, as he turned his head to look at me.  I noticed a lazy smile slowly break out over his face, making me smile back at him in return. 

 

"My God..."  He reached over to grasp my sweaty hand.  "That was fucking... _intense_." 

 

I flushed in reaction to the almost reverent look on his face.  "That could just be the start," I whispered to him.  "There is so much more."  _So much more that I want so desperately to do with you...TO you,_ I couldn't help thinking. 

 

I watched in fascination as he swallowed hard in reaction, unable to take my eyes off his throat as I wondered what it would be like to lick a trail from there down to his cock before suckling such an impressive piece of flesh.  Just the thought made my own stir with need.  But I had promised him that we would take it as slow as he wished, and I would honor that, whatever his decision might be.

 

He nodded at me and seemed to mull over what I said before he replied in a husky whisper, "I want more, too." 

 

My eyes widened at the thought.  I licked my lips to wet them, almost too afraid to hope, but knowing I had to know.  "Tell me what you want, Brian," I urged him.

 

He appeared almost self-conscious as he rolled his lips under and turned on his side to face me, my eyes drinking in the sight of him.  _My God...he did take my breath away._   I quickly lifted my gaze back to his eyes, seeing him blush again; something I found oddly endearing on such a normally self-assured man.  "I...I was watching this film last night...and..."  He groaned in embarrassment. "Shit!  I sound like some fucking virgin at their first high school dance!  It's so pathetic..."

 

I squeezed his hand to get his attention.  "No, it's not pathetic.  You told me yourself that you've only been with women before."  I paused, suddenly feeling like the awkward one now.  "It's...it's different with men."  He peered over at me, one eyebrow raised.  "Different plumbing." 

 

He smirked, nodding as I recalled that Derrick had never been very talkative in bed.  He was more of a ‘wham, bam, thank you, Sir' sort of man.  As soon as we were done, he would quickly drift off to sleep - him on his side of the bed, and me on mine.  While the sex had been good enough, that was just it.  It had been just ‘good enough.'  He hadn't been very touchy-feely, either, whereas I normally craved some continued intimacy afterward.  As I lay here, however, and turned on my side to face Brian, I somehow knew it wouldn't be like that. I didn't know how or why...but I just knew. 

 

"I think I figured that out," he whispered back to me as I nodded at him with a smile. 

 

"So what film did you watch?" I asked him then, already figuring out what ‘sort' of film it must have been.  Short of actually participating in it in the backroom, the baths, or at some guy's apartment, it was a lot less embarrassing to already do some homework beforehand.  And I could definitely see someone like Brian doing ‘research' first. 

 

 

He flushed then as he mumbled dismissively, "It's not important..."

 

"Brian..." I pressed gently, figuring this might be the only way to get him to talk about what he wanted and allay his fears.  "What sort of film was it? I don't need to know the title." 

 

"Well, I think you can figure out what kind," he replied as I nodded and waited for him to continue.  "The two men in the film...one was a recruiter and the other one was some young guy wanting to join the Army, and..." He rolled his eyes and snorted.  "Shit, it was such a lame movie!" he explained as I grinned. 

 

"I don't think they make them so people will become engrossed with the plot.  I think they're more interested in the visual aspect of it." 

 

He nodded with a grin.  "Yeah...well...this guy...he came into this recruiter's office...and he bent him over his desk, and..." He cast his eyes downward in recollection, his hand tightening slightly in mine.

 

"From behind?" I asked quietly.  It was evident I would have to take some baby steps here.

 

He nodded, swallowing, as he peered over at me then.  "Yeah," he confirmed with a whisper.  "I've...I've never done that...I mean, with a woman even."  He paused.  "Does it hurt?" 

 

I wasn't going to lie to him.  "Yes," I told him honestly as he winced.  "The first time, especially, because you're not used to it.  Once you do it, though, it becomes easier.  It still burns some each time...."  My voice dropped lower as I added, "But if you're with someone you care about, and you're...attracted to them...it's part of the pleasure.   And once you move beyond the initial discomfort, if you're with the right man...it can be incredibly powerful.  And there're ways to lessen the pain for your partner.  You...prepare him first, give him time to adjust.  Women have their own built-in lubricant for that sort of thing.  Men don't."  He nodded back at me as I paused to gaze into his eyes before asking quietly, "Is that what you want, Brian?  You want me to be...inside you?" 

 

I held my breath, seeing him hesitate.  "There are other ways to get off instead of penetration," I whispered, thinking perhaps that was too much, too soon for him.  "Did you ever have oral sex with a woman?" 

 

I watched him shake his head.  "This is damn awkward," he admitted to me with another nervous laugh, as he peered down at our linked hands.  He finally raised his eyes to look into mine as he simply responded, "No." 

 

I had to admit a little surprise with that.  "No?  Never?"  He shook his head as I couldn't help asking, "Why?" 

 

I saw him struggle to reply, again as if he were embarrassed, before he explained, "I never really felt anything...passionate...with a woman.  Sex to me has always been just a release.  It was pleasurable enough, I guess," he admitted to me.  His eyes darkened slightly as he added in a lower whisper, "But it never felt like it just did with you.  And...I never really thought I would want a woman to do that to me." 

 

My face grew warm at the unspoken connotation I thought I heard in that statement.  "But now...?" I prodded.

 

He smiled slightly at me, causing my heart to skip a beat, as he told me what I was hoping to hear.  "But now...I can't stop thinking about it." 

 

I had to smile then in satisfaction, pleased.  So my not-so-straight bed partner was at least somewhat adventurous.  My smile faded to be replaced with what I hoped was a reassuring expression as I whispered my own admission now.  "Neither can I."  I noticed his eyes dilating at the thought as I finally took a chance to tell him what was in my heart and on my mind.  "Brian...I want to taste you."  Just the thought had my mouth salivating in anticipation.  "Will you let me?"  I held my breath, waiting for his reaction. 

 

I could hear his sharp intake of breath in reaction to my question; I wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad sign.  Finally he spoke.  "You want to put me...in your mouth?" he whispered in a choked voice. 

 

I continued to grip his hand as I slowly nodded.  "In the most desperate way," I admitted.  "You are so beautiful, Brian."  My eyes couldn't help traveling leisurely from his face, down his toned, smooth skin to his cock now rising once more to attention, and then on down to his long, elegant legs.  He really WAS a masterpiece, and wanting to paint him, to etch him into my memory, was second only to wanting to take his cock in my mouth and make him see stars behind his eyes.  "I want to give you such pleasure...if you'll trust me." 

 

He gazed into my eyes thoughtfully for a few moments before I could see a sort of change come over his face as he finally nodded.  "I do trust you," he murmured. 

 

I nodded, trying hard to tamp down my excitement.  "Roll over onto your back," I told him softly, watching as he did as I asked.  I could hear his shallow breathing as he lay there, his eyes staring up at the ceiling.  I could almost feel the tension rolling off his body in waves, making me hesitate.  Did he really want this?  Or was he doing it more to satisfy ME?  "Brian, if you don't want me to...it's all right.  I'll understand," I reassure him. 

 

But he shook his head as he finally turned to peer over at me intently.  "No...I...I want you to." 

 

I nodded as I turned onto my stomach to inch closer to him, noticing his cock becoming more erect.  God, he had the most incredible-looking dick.  Long, smooth, and perfectly shaped.  I swallowed in barely contained patience as I whispered, "Spread your legs more."  He created more space as I took advantage of it, moving to lie between his legs as I gripped his thighs and peered down at the delicious prize awaiting me.  I could hear and even feel him panting erratically as I lifted my eyes to peer up at him, noticing his gaze locked on mine. 

 

"Relax," I murmured.  "I'm going to make you feel so good."  He swallowed hard and nodded as I returned my attention to his cock, which was jutting out from his body in clear desire for me. Leaving my left hand to grip his thigh, I curled the fingers of my right hand around the base of his shaft, and swept my tongue lightly over the head, and then down the vein underneath.  His skin was so soft and hot as I licked a path back up to the tip, lifting my head as I heard him moan.  "Feel good?" I whispered. All he could do was nod at me as he closed his eyes tightly, his head falling back onto the pillow as his mouth fell open.  "We're just beginning," I told him with a smile.  Licking my lips, I took a moment to cradle one of his balls in my hand before finally taking it into my mouth, hearing him gasp loudly.  I made sure to pay the same attention to the other one thoroughly before staring at his now rock-hard cock, feeling ridiculously pleased that I was going to be this magnificent man's first.  Inhaling deeply and continuing to grip the base of his cock, I hollowed my lips and latched onto the end of his dick.

 

His response was immediate as he moaned even more loudly and his back arched slightly off the bed, his hands clenching the sheets beside him.  I took a moment to look at his face, noticing his eyes still tightly squeezed shut and his lips slightly parted.  His chest was heaving up and down as I began to suckle his cock in earnest, swirling my tongue as I bobbed my head up and down on his cock, going deeper and deeper until, at last, I placed my hand back on his other thigh and took him all the way in.  He arched even deeper into me, instinctively begging me for more, as I tightened my grip on his thighs, my speed increasing in proportion to his moans. 

 

"Oh, fuck, that feels....that feels incredible," he breathlessly responded.  "Justin...so good..."

 

I could tell by the sounds he was making and the feel of his body that he was close to release as I ramped up my sucking even more.  I felt his left hand coming to rest on top of my head as he fisted some of my hair in his fingers. 

 

"Justin..." he keened loudly now, his lower body fucking my mouth as I continued to suck him.  "Oh, God!  No...Wait! I'm going to ..." He didn't have a chance to finish his sentence as suddenly his body arched off the bed, and he erupted copiously into my mouth, his body violently jerking as he reached his climax. 

 

I just barely managed to swallow it all before I slowly slid my lips off his cock, lifting my head to see Brian's chest rapidly rising up and down, his eyes still tightly closed as he lay there, his skin sweaty as he gasped for some much-needed oxygen.  If I had thought Brian was gorgeous before, I decided a thoroughly debauched, after-sex Brian was even better.  I slowly slid up his body until I was draped face-to-face with him, brushing some damp hair back from his forehead as he opened his eyes back up.  He smiled at me almost as if he were in a daze, causing me to smile back in relief in return.  "I take it you enjoyed that?" I asked coyly. 

 

I could feel the strong rise and fall of his chest, and his heart beating furiously as he grinned.  "It was...all right." 

 

My eyes grew wide with indignation.  "Only _all right_?  I think it was a lot better than that!" 

 

He chuckled, his body vibrating beneath mine as he agreed softly, "Yeah...it was _more_ than all right," he assured me as I blushed.  His hand came to rest at the back of my head as he told me, "That...that was amazing.  You're really fucking good at it." 

 

I laughed.  "You don't exactly have a basis for comparison, you know." 

 

He played with the hair at the back of my neck as he whispered, "I don't need one.  There's no way anyone else could make me feel the way you just made me feel."

 

My heart was thumping as I leaned down to kiss him softly, pulling back to gaze into his eyes, wondering what to do.  He had already allowed me more than I had hoped; much more.  Would he be willing to give me the ultimate gift, though?  Just the possibility made my body tingle and my cock start to harden.  "I'm glad you enjoyed it," I whispered, moving to slide off his body and roll onto my back beside him, but he unexpectedly gripped me by the arms to prevent me from moving.  I lifted my eyebrows slightly in question. 

 

"Justin?"

 

"Hmm?" 

 

He must have noticed the expression on my face, because he told me, "I...I want to make you feel good, too.  I just don't know if I can do what you..." 

 

I shook my head, placing my fingers over his lips.  "It's okay," I assured him.  "That was for you; I'm not expecting anything else."  I paused before telling him, "I'm not trying to pressure you.  I know this is different than what you are used to."

 

 

His lips crooked upward.  "Definitely."  He shook his head in disbelief.  "I...Fuck, I never knew!  How could I have been so blind to not know?  It's just that..."  He hesitated, his voice trailing off.

 

"What?" I pressed gently as I continued to play with his hair, my legs intertwined with his longer ones. 

 

"I never really felt attracted to another man...until I met you.  It wasn't until then that I realized why I had never become close to any of those women Claire was constantly trying to fix me up with."  He smiled then.  "I just had never met the right person." 

 

I blushed.  "I'm glad that we wound up on that same park bench." 

 

He nodded.  "Me, too."  His face grew more serious as he paused.  "Justin?" 

 

I stared into his eyes.  "Yes?" 

 

"Do you....do you have a condom?"  He rolled his lips under, showing me that look of vulnerability that made him so endearing.  It was obvious this was well past his comfort zone. 

 

My heart began to pound furiously.  I had never thought in my wildest dreams this would happen.  Hell, I had hoped in some crazy way that perhaps it might, but I really never believed it would - at least not tonight.  Of course, I wasn't even sure we would end our dinner with a goodnight kiss, and now here we were...lying in my bed, my body draped over his as he gave me a look that curled my toes.  "Brian...you don't have to do this." 

 

He reached up to run his fingers slowly over my lips, making me shiver despite the warmth inside my bedroom.  "I want to," he whispered.  "But you'll have to go slow with me."

 

I was finding it hard to breathe. "Are you positive?"  _Please...God, I want you so much..._

 

To my great relief, he nodded, his eyes large and dark.  "Yes...I want to know how it feels...with you.  I _have_ to know."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments! As always, it is very encouraging and much appreciated.


	5. Lesson No. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian's discovery of his true sexuality continues, leaving him astounded as well as totally conflicted.

_Justin's POV_

 

I stared into his eyes.  "It'll be my pleasure to show you the ropes," I whispered back.  I groaned inwardly then as the vision of Brian all tied up and at my mercy came to mind, making my cock grow even harder.  I gasped as Brian grinded his cock against mine as I stared down at him in shock, my mind instantly springing back to the present.     

 

Brian nodded, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips.  "Show me, then," he told me simply.  "I want to give you as much pleasure as you're giving me." 

 

My face grew hot at the thought.  "You already are," I told him. But I knew I wanted so much more.  Swallowing hard, I sat up to kneel between his long legs, reaching over beside the bed to pull open the narrow top drawer of my nightstand to grab the box of condoms and a small tube of lube that I kept there.  His eyes never left mine as I placed the box down beside him on the bed, pulling out one of the condoms and opening the top of the package with unsteady fingers.  Placing the latex disc down, I picked up the lube, using my thumb to flick open the top.  Noticing the look of apprehension on Brian's face and feeling I needed to reassure him, I stopped what I was doing, bracing myself with one hand on his thigh as I leaned down to kiss him softly.  I could feel the muscles of his leg rippling as we kissed, his cock hot against my skin signaling his rising arousal, as I pulled back to look down at his kiss-swollen lips and his beautiful face. I couldn't help flicking my tongue out to wet my own dry lips in anticipation as I leaned down again, my voice shaky with emotion as I instructed him, "Bend your legs, and place your feet down on the mattress." 

 

He eyed me nervously, but nodded as he did as I asked.  I reached over to snag a spare pillow from beside his head.  "Lift yourself off the bed, Brian."  He raised his pelvis enough for me to slide the pillow underneath to give me better access and make him more comfortable.  As his hole was exposed to my appreciation, I couldn't help fantasizing about touching that pucker with my tongue and my lips, and wondering how he would react to the wet, hot invasion. The idea made me extremely turned on, but I decided that the wonder of rimming would have to wait until another day. 

 

He continued to watch me intently as I squirted some of the lube into the palm of my hand, grateful that I used a type that warmed to the touch.  My fingers now coated with the gel, I paused to explain, "This is going to help open you up so you can take me in."  I felt him shiver as I took a moment to spread some of the lube around his hole to help facilitate what I was about to do, smiling at his reaction.  "I know...it's a little cold.  It's self-warming, though; it'll only feel that way for a moment or so." 

 

He nodded back at me in understanding as I squirted some more lube onto my fingers, my own cock lying heavy and hot between us, as I reached down with my slickened middle finger to locate his puckered hole, my eyes locked onto his as he held his breath. Hovering there to allow him some time, I waited a few seconds before tentatively, slowly pushing slightly inside and then a little deeper, sucking in my breath as I felt how constrictive, how wonderfully tight his hole was when it greedily wrapped itself around my finger. 

 

I moaned at the feeling rushing through me, hearing him hiss at the intrusion.  I immediately stilled my hand as he shook his head.  "No...it's okay.  Keep going," he told me, his voice hoarse. 

 

I studied his face as he nodded at me before I pressed in even further.  "Try to relax," I whispered, lightly caressing his taut stomach in reassuring strokes with my other hand. 

 

He barked out a short, nervous laugh.  "Easier said than done with someone's got their finger up your ass," he grunted, breathing heavily. 

 

"Brian..." I began to pull out slowly - only to have him reach up and grab my other wrist. 

 

"No...I want this, Justin.  Keep going.  Do it." 

 

I swallowed, nodding.  "Okay."  I held my finger inside as I slowly, methodically pushed another one slightly in, feeling him bucking against me as he fought not to rebel against the intrusion.  "Breathe," I reminded him as I continued to caress his warm skin.  I almost decided to stop as I noticed Brian's eyes clenched tightly shut, the pain and discomfort clearly broadcast on his face. 

 

"Don't stop," he commanded in a raspy voice as I briefly hesitated, both fingers now embedded in him.   If it hurt this much already, could he even tolerate a third one?  But I knew in the long run it would be better for him.  "Brian...I told you..."

 

He groaned.  "And I told YOU...do it!  I...I can take it." 

 

I bit my lip and nodded, pushing my index finger further inside until all were fully inside him.  I stopped then to allow him more time to adjust, hearing his heavy, pained breath under my touch as I laid my free hand on his belly and then slid it up toward his sweaty chest.  My eyes locked on his; I could see the discomfort, but also determination etched on his face.

 

"Fuck," he breathed out as I remained immobile.  "It never hurt this much with a woman.  Is it always this bad?" 

 

I shook my head, trying to reassure him.  "No," I told him quietly.  "But the first time is a bitch, I won't lie." He nodded at me as I felt his hole widening just a bit, signaling that he was ready for the next step. I spread my fingers slightly, his eyes never leaving mine as I did so, until I curved them just right, and his eyes flew open in surprise as he bucked beneath me.  I grinned.  "Of course, there ARE some good things about it, too." 

 

"Holy shit," he murmured in awe, breathing hard.  "Do that again." 

 

I laughed, repeating my movement as he arched off the bed; I felt heady with power as I got to work stretching him some more, hearing him grunt in reaction. Finally, I slowly pulled my fingers out and grabbed the condom, my hands shaking as I pulled it down over my steel-hard cock.  "Ready?" I whispered breathlessly, sensing this would be the moment when neither of us could turn back. 

 

He inhaled a deep breath before letting it back out, nodding after a few moments.  "Yes...show me, Justin." 

 

"Put your legs around my waist," I told him, my pulse racing absurdly fast as he lifted his long legs and linked them behind my back.  I never thought this would be happening tonight, but now that it was, I could barely control myself.  I nodded back at him, wetting my lips that had suddenly become parched, before I grasped the base of my cock with one hand and teased his opening with the tip while my other hand gripped his left thigh.  His eyes never leaving mine, I raised up and then pushed slightly inside.  I saw him wince and grunt in pain as I did so, causing me to stroke his thigh reassuringly with my fingers.  It was all I could do not to ram my entire cock inside that tight, pulsating hole; I had never felt anything so incredible in my life. 

 

I felt Brian's hand on my chest as I peered into his eyes, wondering, worried that he was going to back out.  But then I heard him urge me with a simple word:  "Go," as I thrust in a little further, feeling the heat of that constrictive, heavenly space.  I could feel the beads of sweat sprouting on my forehead as we remained linked together as one, my body stilled as I gave him time to get used to me. 

 

"Press back against me," I instructed him.  "Don't forget to breathe," I added as he nodded.  Gripping his biceps tightly, I pushed in more...and then even more until - at last - I was fully imbedded inside.  The only sound in the room were our two rapid pants of breathing as I whispered, "Here we go." 

 

I pulled back out almost all the way...and then pushed forcefully back in as he continued to fist the sheets beside him.  His rapid breathing told me he was still uncomfortable somewhat as I held still again; balls deep against his ass. 

 

He breathed out slowly, pushing up to take me in even deeper.  "Do it, Justin.  Teach me." 

 

I nodded, my own heart threatening to burst out of my chest, as I began a slow, steady, in-and-out rhythm, almost withdrawing all the way out before I fluidly thrust back in.  I could see a sea change look of astonishment come over his face finally as his eyes grew impossibly darker, and he moaned, this time in pleasure.  "Oh, God," he breathed out in amazement.  "I...I...Fuck me," he commanded, reaching up to tightly grip my upper arms as he pulled me even closer to him, his own hips snapping in time with my thrusts. 

 

I was lost in a haze of burning desire as our two bodies melded into one; at that moment no one else and nothing else existed except the two of us.  I had never felt anything so exquisite before - so tight; so...it was indescribable, I decided, as we both quickly headed toward our climaxes.  I felt my body drawing tight, and knew I was about to come, but not before I made sure that Brian experienced the same degree of pleasure that I was feeling.  Reaching down to stroke his full, heavy cock with my hand, I watched as his face contorted with uncontrollable emotion before his body shuddered, and with a cry of my name on his lips he exploded between us, my own climax following a few seconds later as he clenched his muscles against my dick. 

 

I thrust a couple more times before - completely exhausted - I fell heavily onto his warm, sticky, sweaty body, my chest threatening to explode from the exertion.  Brian's legs fell away from my waist to drop heavily onto the mattress as his hands held onto my back.  I could feel his breath on my neck as I lay there on top of him, my body wound tighter than a coil as I struggled to regain my breath. I could feel Brian's heart thumping furiously under me as he, too, tried fervently to slow his breathing down, and I felt his hands lazily travel up and down my slickened back as if he were memorizing every plane and curve.  It made me feel like nothing I had felt before - like some exquisite treasure - and I marveled at how this first time with a man who was so inexperienced in the joys of gay sex had culminated in such a moment of total rapture. 

 

Finally, with great reluctance, I carefully pulled away from him, hearing him moan in reaction, as I grabbed the condom and rolled onto my back, tying it off and disposing of it in the trash can next to the bed.  Both of us lay there on our backs side-by-side before I turned my head to peer over at his face, unsure what emotions were playing through his mind.  I tried to recall how I had felt that first time, although I suspected it would be different with Brian for a lot of reasons.  Not only was this the first time he had experienced sex with a man, he also was having to come to terms with being attracted to men in the first place.  "Brian?" I whispered.  "Are you okay?" 

 

He turned his head to peer over at me, beads of sweat making his damp, thoroughly tousled hair stick to his forehead. I thought he looked sexy as hell.  I watched him lick his lips as his chest continued to rise and fall rapidly - God, he was so gorgeous looking, even more so in his after-sex state!  Finally, he found his voice to answer me.

 

"I...Wow," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.  "I had no idea..."  He struggled to speak, sounding winded, as he peered intently into my eyes, almost making me feel like he could see right through me.  "That made me feel..."  He shook his head.  "I don't know _how_ I feel right now. So many things..."  As if sensing my need to be reassured, he added, "But it was fucking amazing." 

 

I smiled in relief then, having been afraid for one, brief moment that he would say he regretted it.  I shouldn't have worried, though, because I could tell just by the look on his face, and the tone of his voice, that he had enjoyed it every bit as much as I had.  I nodded at him.  "Yes, it was."  I saw a look of hesitation on his face as I asked, "What?  Tell me."  It was important to me that I know what he was thinking, and how he felt. 

 

He actually appeared embarrassed, a slight tinge of pink sprouting on his face.  "It's nothing, really," he mumbled," with a shake of his head.  I lifted my eyebrows and stared back at him expectantly until he sighed.  "Okay...I was just thinking how it would feel..."  He inhaled a deep breath and let it out, his breathing finally becoming more regular.  He shook his head again.  "It's nothing." 

 

"Brian..."  I could tell I would have to pull it out of him...and I think I knew what he was trying to say.  At least I was fervently hoping. "Okay...maybe I can help.  You want to know what it would feel like yourself...to be inside _me_."  God, just the thought make my entire body thrum with anticipation.  Brian's majestic, long cock...deep inside me, sliding in and out?  My heart began to pound anew at the thought as I admitted, "I want to know that, too." 

 

His eyes grew wide as he replied, "You do?" 

 

I smiled with a nod.  "Hell, yes, I do," I confirmed as he smiled at me in relief.  My smile faded slightly as I grew more serious.  "But, Brian..."  I watched in dismay as his fell face before I hastily added, "I'm ready whenever you are," I assured him.  "But that's such a big step.  If you want to wait until another time..."  I so hoped there would BE another time, too; now that I knew what it felt like to be with this man in every sense of the word, I couldn't wait to do it again and again.  Brian was such a fascinating package - intellectually as well as physically.  And his vulnerability and yes, even his innocence in a way, made it even more enthralling.  

 

I held my breath as I watched him consider what I had just said before he whispered, "No. I'm ready, Justin.  Now.  Tonight. I don't _want_ to wait."

 

I smiled.  "I was hoping you would say that." 

 

* * *

_Same Time - Brian's Point of View_

 

Had I just told Justin that I wanted to be inside him? To feel what he must have felt as we had sex?  The thought both excited me and also petrified me.  What we had just shared had been nothing like I had imagined it would be.  No, it had been better...ten _times_ better. No, make that a hundred.  _Holy shit._   No wonder I had never really derived much pleasure from being with a woman!  I thought I knew what having sex felt like, but now I knew how wrong I had been. Justin had to have been made just for me.  Our bodies fit perfectly together, and it was all I could do to hold onto dear life as he fucked the shit out of me. 

 

And his touches, his stroking of my body, his smell, and the way he kissed; it was unlike anything I had ever experienced before, and left me yearning for more. It left me wanting to take him, to be inside him, to own him.     

 

"Brian?"  I turned my head at the sound of Justin's voice, realizing I had briefly zoned out.  Now was the time if I was going to back out, but as much as it made me nervous, I was more excited than anxious.  "Second thoughts?" he asked me as I shook my head, taking a moment to sweep my eyes down his slender, pale, flawless body.  I could feel my cock stirring at the thought of what I was soon about to do as Justin silently reached next to him and retrieved another condom.  He wordlessly handed it to me as I watched him take the lube and squirt some onto his fingers before he pressed them inside himself and moaned in reaction. Or was it me?  I didn't know.  _My God._ All I knew was that I found it incredibly erotic watching him, and all I could think about was having my dick there instead.  I couldn't help my breath catching as he continued to work them inside his hole as I realized he was doing it for _me._

Justin smiled at me.  "You like that?  You like watching me?"

 

I swallowed hard as my face grew warm, feeling like some guilty kid who had been caught sneaking a cookie before dinner.  But I couldn't look away; just knowing that my cock was about to replace those fingers made adrenalin rush through me.  I finally nodded, unable to speak.  I watched Justin slowly pull his fingers out before he reached for the lube and handed it to me.  He glanced down, noticing I was already getting hard again. 

 

Taking that as a cue to proceed, I twisted my body so that I was draped on top of him, taking advantage of our positions to steal a deep kiss from his warm, soft lips.  I stared into his darkened blue eyes, finding myself concerned that somehow I would disappoint him.  What did I know about pleasuring another man, especially one that I cared about as deeply as I cared for him?  But I knew I wanted to try; I _had_ to try. I could almost taste it. 

 

"Brian," he whispered to me as I refocused on his face.  "I want you.  Don't worry." 

 

I nodded, biting my lower lip as I rose up onto my knees and reached for the condom, tearing the top off with shaky hands and pulling it out as I moved to place it on my cock, only to have Justin grab my wrist.  He shook his head as he whispered, "No...let me."  His face reddened as I nodded, my cock hardening even more as he reached up and deftly slid it down my shaft, my body shuddering as his fingertips brushed against my skin.   I moaned as he took the lube and slickened his fingers before stroking them up and down my cock, and I imagined plunging into his body. 

 

"Justin, stop," I pleaded, fearing I would totally embarrass myself by coming before I could even fuck him.  Thankfully, he seemed to understand, offering me a slightly sheepish smile and a nod as I grasped his legs to raise them over my shoulders, leaning in to steal another kiss from him before lining myself up with his body.  Holding on tightly to his thighs, I felt this emotional weight threatening to crush me as I stared into his face; a face that broadcast trust and encouragement.

 

"Brian, please," he whispered to me.  "Move."  It was a simple command, but enough for me to position myself and finally press just an inch or so into the narrow opening.  And so narrow it was.  I wasn't sure what exactly I had been expecting, but I knew from how it had felt to me that the initial thrust would be uncomfortable.  I heard Justin suck in a breath and gasp as I stopped.  "No," he murmured quickly, his eyes darkening with lust.  "I'm okay; keep going." 

 

I took a deep breath and pushed in further, astounded by how incredibly tight he was, how his body surrounded my cock so greedily, how hot his skin felt against mine.  "Ahhhh...Justin....God..."  I moaned loudly, unable to stop the sound from escaping my lips.  As he commanded me to move once more, I decided no words in the English language could exist for what I was feeling.  But mind-numbing and explosive came to mind as, at last, I found myself fully embedded in that wondrous place known as Justin's ass.  We remained motionless for a few moments, our eyes locked on each other, as if both of us were in disbelief.  I wasn't sure if he was more astounded that I had actually gone through with fucking him, or - like me - if he was merely speechless over how it felt to be skin-to-skin with him.  Somehow I knew that I would never feel this way with anyone else...and that the feelings that were rushing through my body at that moment might overwhelm me.  It was almost too much to handle as I gripped his legs tightly; so tightly that I knew in the morning his pale skin would show the evidence of it. 

 

"Oh...Brian," he whispered out my name almost reverently in a breathy moan, his eyes deep and wide as they stared at me, the color of a dark blue sky.  "Oh, God, you're so..."  He couldn't get the words out, but instead apparently decided he preferred the direct approach.  "Fuck me, Brian!" he demanded.  He moaned as I slowly withdrew, and I found myself mesmerized by the look on his face.  It was so intense, so focused...he was in full arousal mode as I pulled back a little more...only to ram my cock back inside with one fell swoop, making him gasp in reaction and flooding me with a sense of power as intense pleasure dominated me.

 

I slid back out and then back in, over and over again, as Justin's hips moved in time with my thrusts, much like mine had done with his earlier.  I let out a grunt on each down thrust as he moaned, making my head swim.  The sounds he was making were amazing - whimpers, gasps, and pants as our pace quickened.  Our hands stroked everywhere we could reach, my grip on his legs starting to slip with our sweat-soaked bodies.  I could feel my balls tightening, and my body crying out for release; anything to relieve the rush coursing through me, until finally I felt Justin squeezing his muscles around my cock as his come spurted all over our bodies.  The extra pressure on my cock and Justin's cry of pleasure were enough to send me over the edge, also, as I erupted with a loud gasp into the condom, my entire body shuddering from my orgasmic high.

 

Justin's legs fell away from my shoulders and dropped heavily down onto the mattress as I collapsed on top of him, his legs bent at the knees on either side of my body.    I felt his hands lazily caressing my back as we lay there together, our bodies sticky and sweaty.  It felt like fucking heaven.  Finally, I slowly pulled out as I heard a soft hiss escape Justin's lips and tied the condom off to join its mate in the trash.  I flopped over onto my back, my lips slightly parted as I struggled to slow my breathing back down to a normal rhythm.  I was presently too winded to even speak, and even if I could, I wasn't sure just what I would say.  _Holy Shit.  Justin and I just had sex; gay sex_.  Was this what I had expected would happen when he invited me here to dinner? Was this what I was _hoping_ would happen?  At that moment, I honestly didn't know.  This feeling - this intense emotion flooding through me - was unlike anything I had ever experienced, and for all my business acumen and intelligence when it came to advertising, this feeling - and this man - frankly scared the shit out of me.  I had always been used to being in control; to knowing exactly what my goals were, and how to get there.  I had acquired a fortune by doing that. But that had been business.  That was something with measurable goals.  This...this whatever it was with Justin; I felt like I was in freefall, and I couldn't decide whether to cry out with joy, or run as far away as I possibly could. 

 

I felt Justin reach over then and grasp my hand, linking our fingers together as I turned my head to peer over at him.  His face was flushed, his lips were swollen from our deep kissing, and his hair was askew.  His chest was still rising heavily up and down as he stared into my eyes.  I felt even more undressed at that moment than I ever had before; it was almost as if he could see right through me.  But I couldn't help thinking how beautiful he was as he tentatively smiled at me.   "You okay?" he whispered.  "How do you feel?" 

 

I felt my throat tighten over his concern.  Just how _did_ I feel?  Physically, I felt like I had just walked through a bed of prickly pine; my ass was sore as hell, and my legs were aching from having been in such an awkward position while Justin had been fucking me.  Mentally, that was much harder to analyze.  But as he stared over at me with those luminous blue eyes, I felt my anxiety temporarily fade away as I replied, "I feel fine.  Sore as hell...but fine."

 

He looked at me warily.  "Just _fine_?"

 

I smiled sheepishly at him.  "Okay...it was _more_ than fine." 

 

He blushed with a nod.  "I'm glad," he whispered.  I watched him rise from the bed, my eyes honing in on his amazing ass, as he walked into the bathroom and came out a couple minutes later with a wet, warm hand towel.  Sitting down beside me on the bed, he proceeded to gently wash me off before doing the same to his own body, my eyes traveling everywhere his hands went.  If I hadn't felt so utterly drained of energy at the moment from what we had just done, I would have entertained the thought of the two of us experiencing our first shower together. For now, however, I could feel my eyelids growing heavy as he walked back to the bathroom to emerge a minute later. Walking over to the other side of his bed, he pulled the covers back and slid in beside me, turning on his side and bracing himself on his elbow to peer over at me.  "You look tired," he commented with a slight grin.  "Did I wear you out?" 

 

I huffed, trying to sound indignant, but finding it difficult to deny.  "I guess you did," I finally murmured.  "I guess we _both_ did," I couldn't help pointing out, trying to keep the pride out of my voice.  I saw his face redden in response, validating my impression.  I could tell I wasn't the _only_ one who was tired.

 

"Will you stay?" he whispered to me then, a little bit of vulnerability present in his voice. 

 

I hadn't really thought that would be an option - I certainly didn't pack some overnight bag in anticipation of it; why would I?  But I could feel the weariness down to my bones, and Justin's bed was so soft. And _Justin_ was so soft - soft and warm, and his voice so captivating.  I knew that Debbie - who had eventually taken a grudging liking to Mrs. Kinney and who was my dog sitter for the evening - would be bombarding me with some tough questions in the morning if I stayed.  Some questions I wasn't sure I was ready to answer.  All I had told her was that I was having dinner with a friend, and while it wouldn't be the first time I had stayed out all night, this time it was totally different. Only she didn't know that. 

 

Finally, the desire to stay outweighed any awkwardness that might ensue the next morning as I nodded.  "Yeah...I'll stay."  I saw his face break out into a pleased smile as he scooted over closer to me and laid his head on my chest, twisting his body so his legs tangled with mine as he placed his arm around my chest and snuggled up to me.  I was astounded by how right it felt, and how the butterflies fluttered around inside my stomach, and how all these tender feelings rushed through me, as I slid my arm around his slender body and pulled him even closer.  In no time at all - before I even knew it - both of us were fast asleep. 

 

* * *

_Next Morning - Dawn - Brian's POV_

I was the first one to awaken the next morning, my full bladder prompting me to half-alertness.  The first thing I noticed were the unfamiliar surroundings as I peered around the room, followed quickly by the realization that a warm, soft body was plastered against me, followed by the soreness in my muscles and in my ass.  It was then that what had happened last night came flooding back to me with startling clarity.  I carefully disentangled myself from his embrace and slid out of bed, stopping to turn around and gaze at Justin.  His paler skin practically glowed under the first rays of the sun shining through his bedroom window as he murmured something in his sleep before burrowing deeper into the mattress.  I thought I heard a soft sigh escape his lips before I picked up my boxers to slide them and head into the attached bathroom.  I splashed some water on my face before raising my head to stare into the mirror.  My hair was sticking up in all directions, my lips were chapped, and my body was aching from head to toe like I had done several rounds with a prizefighter.  I swallowed hard at the realization. _My God.  Had I done what I thought I had done?_   There really wasn't any doubt, though.  Yes.  I had not only had a dinner date with another man, but we had kissed.  And then he had fucked me. And I had fucked _him_.  It scared me to death. 

 

Groaning as I stretched backward to relieve some of the stiffness, I glanced back into the bedroom to confirm that Justin was still asleep before softly closing the door, deciding that a hot shower might make me feel better, and help me to clear my head.  As the water sluiced down over my body a few minutes later, my doubts and insecurity began to rear their ugly head.  Had I done the right thing last night?  I could have just come over here for dinner like I had initially intended.  That was all Justin had been anticipating when he had first brought it up - wasn't it?  Or had he been hoping there would be more that would come out of it?  I know he wouldn't be the type of man to push me into something if I wasn't ready for it, and we had already bid each other good night at the door.  _I_ was the one who had refused to leave after he had shut the door.  _I_ was the one who had initiated the kiss, and who had virtually pushed my way back into his apartment.  And _I_ was the one who had pulled him into the bedroom.  I had no doubt that Justin would have let me leave when I had first planned to, and without any pressure.  No, it had all been me, and whatever consequences that resulted in it would be my doing. 

 

Stepping out of the shower and reaching for a towel to dry off, I rubbed my hand through my damp hair before pulling my briefs back on and quietly opening the door.  Justin was still asleep; I could hear his soft, regular breathing, and see the slow rise and fall of his chest, easily discernible since the sheet was bunched up across his lower body.  He was lying on his back now, one arm bent at the elbow and resting on the pillow above his head.  His features were so relaxed in sleep, I noted, as I walked gingerly over closer to the bed and took a moment just to gaze down at him.  God, he was so beautiful, and the feelings that washed over me simply as I looked at him made me breathless - and frightened - at the same time. 

 

I had to have some time to think, to consider what the ramifications would be of what we had done last night. Was he going to think I was his boyfriend or something now after this one night?  Would everyone somehow know what he and I had done?  I knew he wouldn't go around telling everyone about it.  Or would he?  How well did I really know Justin?  Up until last night, all I knew was whatever he and I had discussed on that park bench.  Yes, we had discussed a lot more last night - and I already knew from what we had talked about before that he was quite well-read and intelligent - but what did I really know about him other than that, and the fact that he was an artist?  A quite amazing one, too, from some of the sketches he had taken to showing me as we sat on the park bench all those mornings.  His eyes had positively lit up as he had described his latest inspiration for one of his works, and his voice became so animated; it was clear that art was his passion in life, and I had to admire him for that.  It was much like how I felt toward writing, except that I hadn't had nearly enough time to indulge that whim; at least not yet.  Perhaps one day.

 

I felt a sense of panic well up inside of me as I thought about what would happen when he _did_ wake up.  How would I handle it? Would it be awkward, now that we had had sex?  And just what did last night mean, anyway?  Was I bi?  Had I been gay all along, and had just been deceiving myself all this time?  I squeezed my eyes shut briefly before opening them again.  All I knew was that I had to get out of here. I had to leave until I could figure out what in the hell I was doing.

 

I sat down on a stuffed chair next to Justin's bed and grabbed my clothes from off the floor to begin dressing.  I had just slipped into my shoes and stood up when a pair of blue eyes fluttered open and blinked sleepily at me. 

 

"Are you leaving?" he whispered, rising on his elbows to get a better look at me.  The quickly rising sun cast shadows on his shoulders and face, creating an interesting canvas of the artist himself. 

 

I swallowed, trying frantically to think of how I should respond.  I had never had any experience with this sort of thing before. What could I say? What _should_ I say?  I finally nodded.  "Yes," I told him softly.  "I have to get back to the penthouse.  Debbie will wonder what happened to me." 

 

He seemed to think about that for a few moments before he nodded.  "Okay.  I understand." 

 

Did he, though?  I know _I_ sure didn't the hell understand.  What should I say _now_?  Somehow ‘thank you, I had a great time' seemed pretty much like a bunch of tripe.   ‘Thanks for the fuck?'  No, that seemed a little flippant, too.  I finally settled on, "I'll see you at the park tomorrow." 

 

Justin gazed over at me for another pregnant moment before he nodded once more.  It seemed like he was about to pull the sheet away from his lower body before I held my hand up.

 

"It's all right," I told him with a slight smile.  "I'll let myself out."  I hesitated before walking closer to him, our eyes locking on each other's face as I leaned down and softly pressed my lips to his, memories of last night quickly rushing through my mind.  "See you tomorrow," I assured him as I stood back up and he silently nodded back at me. 

 

Feeling like a complete idiot now, I turned and headed out of the bedroom before I made an even bigger fool of myself. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, and especially for those who have commented. It is very encouraging to me. The angst begins tomorrow....:)


	6. Doubts and Discoveries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian inserts his foot in his mouth during his and Justin's next meeting, while Claire attempts to come to terms with her own feelings regarding her son's sexuality.

_Earlier that Day - Shear Delight Styling Salon - 3rd Person POV_

"Claire? Baby, where have you been?  Oh, my! I was afraid of that!  You let those roots go too long, Sweetie!  But don't worry; old Em here will have you fixed up in no time!" 

 

Claire smiled weakly at Emmett, feeling a little self-conscious as she sensed the stares of the other patrons nearby as she followed Emmett over to the hair washing stations.  Emmett had been doing her hair for years now, and he was definitely the best in her opinion. But sometimes he was a bit ‘overly enthusiastic' about his trade, and had no compunction when it came to expressing his opinion in front of everyone.  He also wasn't the least bit bashful about his sexuality, constantly describing his latest beau to her. She found the whole thing totally incomprehensible to her - how a man could be attracted to another man, not to mention what ELSE went on between them - but she had learned over the years to basically overlook what Emmett said, and found that an occasional ‘uh, huh,' or ‘really' normally kept Emmett happy and believing that she was listening more than she actually was.

 

That was why she would kick herself later for doing what she did.  It happened near the end of her appointment as Emmett was finishing up her hairstyle.  She always was grateful to him that at least the conversation never lagged when Emmett did her hair; it was awkward when she had her nails done by Peggy at the manicurist salon, for example; it was like the proverbial pulling out of her teeth to get her to string more than a couple words together.  At least with Emmett the time seemed to go by quickly, since he was a constant chatterbox.

 

Somehow the subject of sometimes not really knowing people as well as you thought you did came up, and she just blurted it out.  "You don't have to tell ME," she said.  "My own son is..." she whispered the next part..."Gay." 

 

Emmett's eyes lit up as he smiled with surprise.  "Your son is gay!" he chirped out excitedly as she quickly tried to shush him. 

 

"Do you mind?" she scolded him in dismay, feeling her face grow hot in embarrassment as everyone briefly turned to stare over at them before they returned to their own conversations.  "Gee, thanks.  Now I won't have to advertise it in the _New York Times._ " 

 

Emmett laughed.  "Oh, don't worry, Honey.  There are a ton of us around here.  Queers are very creative; didn't you tell me that your son is a photographer?"  Claire nodded as Emmett spritzed her hair with her favorite hairspray.  "See, what did I tell you?" 

 

"You mean that creativity causes people to become gay?   I _knew_ I should have let him go into law or medicine!  But no...he wanted to take pictures!"

 

Emmett laughed, shaking his head as he held up a hand-held mirror so she could see the back of her hairdo.   "Oh, no, honey!  People don't become gay that way! What fantasy novel have you been reading?"  He sighed at her good-naturedly.  "It's biological.  They can't help it, just like someone's born left-handed, or with blue eyes."

 

Claire nodded a couple of times, indicating approval of her hairstyle, as Emmett placed the handheld mirror down on his styling table.  "I find that hard to believe," she insisted with a frown.

 

"Well, I'll tell you what.  I know just who can help you sort your feelings out, and make you understand what I mean."

 

She slid off the chair and reached for her purse, pausing at his words.  "And just who would this magician be?" she asked warily, as she handed Emmett his fee plus her customary generous tip.  Just because she didn't necessarily agree with him didn't mean she shouldn't tip him for his talent.  "I already _have_ a psychiatrist, but I would never discuss this with him." 

 

Emmett helped her slip on her fur coat as he shook his head and smiled.  "No magic.  No shrinks. Just some people who want to help.  You need PFLAG." 

 

Claire arched her eyebrow skeptically.  "I need _what_?  I thought you said this was a person." 

 

"Not exactly," Emmett explained as he walked her over to the door.  "It's a group of people.  PFLAG.  Parents and Friends of Lesbian and Gays.  They meet once a week across the street at that church," he told her, motioning over to the large, old Church with the gothic spires located directly opposite the salon.  "They're people just like you, who have had to come to terms with the same problems you are dealing with. They'll help you see that gays are just like any other people...and they will show you that you are not alone in your feelings of confusion...and maybe even a little resentment?" he ventured. 

 

She sighed, unable to deny it under Emmett's penetrating stare.  "Yes," she admitted.  "I always wanted some grandbabies to play with.  And now..."  She narrowed her brow.  "PFLAG."  Emmett nodded.  Her eyes widened as she realized why that sounded familiar.  "Yeah...My brother mentioned that to me before.  So you think that would help?"  She sighed.  "I'll still miss having grandchildren."

 

Emmett smiled gently at her.  "Just because a gay couple can't have children the conventional way doesn't mean they can't have any," he pointed out.  "They meet tomorrow night at eight.  Go...I promise you that you won't regret it.  And it _will_ help you. What have you got to lose?" he pointed out.  "Except maybe your son...if you don't learn to accept him the way he is." 

 

Claire opened her mouth to reply, but found that she didn't have a good argument for what Emmett had just said.  But if any of her friends should see her entering that church - and noticed why - she would never live through the humiliation.  "I'll...think about it, Emmett," she finally told him, not sure if she meant it or if she was just trying to mollify him. 

 

Emmett nodded, seemingly pleased.  "That's all I can ask," he told her.  He held the door open for her as he told her, "And now....this man's got a date tonight with a very studly stud!  Wish me luck!" 

 

"Uh...yeah...," she answered slowly, not sure quite how to respond to that.  She finally smiled politely at him.  Despite her inability to understand his penchant for other men, she still had to admit that he had a good heart and meant well.  "Good luck, Emmett," she murmured politely as he nodded at her.  Mulling over what the man had said, Claire walked outside and gazed thoughtfully over at the large, old church. 

 

* * *

 

_The Next Day...Central Park - 9:03 am. - Justin's POV_

I glanced down at my cellphone to note the time.  I knew it was only a few minutes past our normal meeting time, but that was enough to worry me. Normally Brian was punctual to a T; even early most days.  And now it was past our meeting time, and there was no sign of him or Mrs. Kinney. I bit my lip, silently berating myself for what had happened that night.  Had I scared him off?  Was he feeling too much pressure or awkwardness now?  "Damn it," I muttered softly.  I should have known that was too much, too soon.  But why? Why had Brian come back after we had said goodbye if he didn't want us to take our relationship beyond that of just friendship?  I sighed loudly, causing Reggie's ears to perk up as he looked at me, turning his head to the side as if he were trying to understand me.

 

"I think I really fucked up, Reggie," I murmured as his big, bug-eyes peered up at me.  I closed my eyes, thinking back to last night and what had happened.  God, it had been amazing.  Even with Brian being a gay virgin, I had _never_ had the type of orgasm I had experienced last night with anyone else.  He had taken me to heights of pleasure I didn't know I could even have.  Just the feel of his hands stroking my body, his tender, passionate, sweet kisses, and his cock inside me made me hard just to think about it, even now.  I had awakened briefly during the night to feel his warm, taut body underneath mine, and at first I was disoriented.  Once I realized it was Brian, however, I was overwhelmed by the feeling of lying in his arms, by how perfect it felt, and I had quickly drifted back off to sleep, not waking up again until I had found him sitting on the bed, pulling his shoes on.  My heart had sunk as I realized he was leaving; I had hoped we could spend some more time together lying in bed...or perhaps even discover the joys of showering together with all that entailed.

 

But Brian had seemed like some frightened rabbit, and had wasted no time leaving in the early hours of the morning.  Now, I was beginning to wonder if I would ever see him again.  The worst part of all was that I didn't really know where he lived; the only thing I knew was that he resided in some swanky penthouse apartment overlooking Central Park. I recalled that he had told me his building was protected by tight security, and that he never published any identifying information online anywhere to ensure his privacy. I figured, then, that there would be no way I could probably reach Brian if he didn't want me to.  I hung my head in my hands and looked down at the ground, closing my eyes as despair washed over me. 

 

A shrill bark from Reggie a few seconds later made me open my eyes and lift my head in hopeful anticipation.  "Brian," I whispered in recognition, my heart hammering rapidly as he slowly approached Reggie and me with Mrs. Kinney in tow.  I licked my lips nervously as our eyes locked on each other.  "Hey," I quietly greeted him with a careful smile, feeling the need to tread lightly. 

 

He smiled and nodded at me in return.  "Morning."  He squatted down to loop Mrs. Kinney's leash around the opposite bench leg from Reggie's as the two dogs became reacquainted, both their stubby tails furiously wagging back and forth; by now, they had become great friends, which led me to wonder something else - just what _were_ Brian and me now after last night?  At least he was here; that was a hopeful sign.  I watched as he sat down on the opposite end of ‘our' bench - about as far away as he could. Any other time, he would be seated close to me, his newspaper folded underneath his arm, before he would pull it out and skim over it as we conversed, periodically pointing out something of interest.  I had grown to enjoy those times, because it gave me more insight into Brian's viewpoints and personality.  The two of us had found out quite a bit on this park bench as we sat side-by-side; occasionally Brian's arm would casually rest along the back of the bench, his fingers barely skimming my shoulder, and it would make me tingle inside.  I had had no way of knowing if he was doing it to get more comfortable, or if there was more to it than that.  Right now, however, Brian couldn't possibly do that, because he was sitting too far away.  I peered over at him as he stared straight ahead as if he were in some type of trance.  "Brian?"  At last he turned his head to gaze over at me.  "Everything okay? I was getting worried when you didn't show up at our usual time." 

 

He nodded.  "Yeah, everything's fine," he assured me.  "I...just had some things to do, that's all." 

 

"Oh."  I wasn't quite sure how to answer that.  I nodded.  "Well, I'm glad you're here."  There was a slight, awkward silence before I told him, "I have something for you." 

 

He peered over at me curiously as I turned and dug into a small, paper bag that I had placed next to the bench's arm, facing him once more as I held it out to him.  "I got this for you. I thought it was only right, considering how many _I_ have," I teased him, suddenly feeling uncertain of myself for some reason.  It was the first time since I had met Brian that I had felt this way; normally I felt very comfortable with him.  Before, however, I knew the rules of the game.  Now, I wasn't sure.  I smiled at him shyly, watching as he took the bag and looked inside.  "It's not much," I continued as he reached inside it and pulled out a navy blue baseball cap with the _Yankees_ insignia on the bill.  "But I thought you might like it."  He was constantly kidding me about all the baseball caps I wore, so I thought it was time he was given the same ‘thrill.' 

 

I watched as he held it in his hands, his eyes cast down as he seemed to study it. Something told me, however, that it wasn't really the ball cap he was thinking about.  "Brian?"

 

He half-smiled at me.  "You remembered my favorite team."

 

I nodded, smiling back at him.  "Yeah.  And I think you look good in navy blue.  It'll go well with all those dozen, identical, navy-blue shirts you seem to have in your closet," I kidded him.  It seemed like every day Brian showed up with some variation of navy, or navy-and-white shirts; the only major difference was the brand.  The only exception I had ever seen was the night of our date. 

 

He grinned at me then before his smile faltered just a bit.  "I don't have THAT many navy-blue shirts," he protested as I raised my eyebrows at him meaningfully.  "Okay...maybe I do," he admitted sheepishly.  He studied the cap held in his hands for a few moments.  "Thanks," he whispered as I nodded.  "I'm not much of a ball cap wearer, though," he told me. 

 

 

I wasn't that surprised by his revelation as I shrugged.  "That's okay. Maybe one day.  You said you have box seats to the stadium." 

 

He nodded, pausing as a heavy silence filled the air, permeated only by the occasional bird or jogger trotting by several feet away on the walking trail. 

 

"Brian..."

 

"Justin..."

 

We both tried to talk at the same time as we laughed, breaking the tension just a bit. 

 

"You first," he told me politely as I shook my head; I was more interested in what HE had to say. 

 

"No...you." 

 

I watched as he brushed his hand through his hair, amazed that the normally self-assured man I had come to know actually seemed nervous; much like he had been nervous after dinner.  "Brian?  Talk to me."  I had to know what he was feeling.  This man had taken me to a level of pleasure that until then had been unknown to me.  And despite his nervousness the other night, I had been thrilled when he had initiated what had happened afterward and that he had wanted it, and that he had made me feel things I had never felt before...and _still_ felt.  So I desperately wanted to know how he was feeling now.  "How are you feeling?"  I paused then, but I had to know.  "Why did you leave so quickly yesterday morning?" 

 

He lowered his gaze, appearing decidedly uncomfortable.  "The truth?"  He asked softly as he lifted his eyes to peer into mine.

 

I nodded, not quite sure if I was ready for the truth, whatever it might be. But I still had to know.  "Yes." 

 

I watched him swallow, oddly aroused by the way his Adam's apple moved up and down on his throat, before he responded quietly, "You...scare me.  You fucking scare me to death." 

 

My mouth gaped open.  "I _scare_ you?  How?"  He certainly didn't seem afraid before; in fact he had left, only to return immediately afterward. To me, that actually took a lot of courage on his part, but it confused the hell out of me now, considering what he had just said. I watched him open his mouth to reply to me, only he didn't have a chance to say anything else due to a sudden arrival by a very familiar figure.

 

"Hey, Sweetie! I was _hoping_ to find you here!" Emmett exclaimed excitedly as he rushed up to me like he was walking on air.  "I just had to tell you about last night with Tall, Dark, and Well Hung!"  I grinned at Em over his enthusiasm as I watched him suddenly peer over at Brian as if he were noticing him for the first time.  "Speaking of which...just who is THIS tasty morsel?"  He turned to smile curiously at me as I noticed Brian turning a little red in the face.  "Have you been holding out on me, Mister?" 

 

I cleared my throat.  "Uh...Emmett, this is Brian Kinney.  Brian...this is Emmett Honeycutt, a dear friend of mine."  I had first met Emmett shortly after coming to New York when I had needed my hair cut. I had stumbled upon the salon where he worked out of sheer luck, and had immediately been drawn to his exuberant, bubbly, and occasionally childlike personality.  Whatever mood I was in, he always tended to make me laugh, and he had been a faithful friend to me.  Yesterday afternoon before Brian had come over, he had regaled me with information about a new man he had met the day before who had also come into the salon for a haircut, and was super excited about going out to dinner with him.  As was Emmett's nature when he described people he met, he had immediately reverted to his typical habit of naming them with descriptive terms; hence, the "Tall, Dark, and Hung" moniker...and the 'tasty morsel' term that presently had Brian turning red as a beet.

 

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Brian Kinney!"  Emmett plunked himself down in the middle between Brian and me as he intently studied my companion.  I could see Brian fidgeting in his seat, observing him adjusting his collar like it was too tight for him as Emmett shamelessly stared over at him like he was a prime cut of meat.  

 

"Uh, nice to meet you," Brian politely replied; I watched as he scrutinized Emmett's outfit, his eyes slowly sweeping downward to take it all in.  Emmett was wearing one of his typical, garish outfits consisting of a metallic, gold mesh shirt with maroon pleather pants, and his favorite, well-worn, brown leather bomber jacket, topped off with a matching maroon scarf around his neck and black mascara.  A pair of brown snakeskin boots completed his ensemble.  I watched as Brian's eyes widened as he took it all in; no doubt, this was much different than the co-workers he normally would have encountered at his advertising agency before he retired. And I suspected his friends dressed in a much more conservative manner, based upon how he dressed.

 

"So, Emmett," I began, trying to deflect his attention back to me instead as he turned back around to face me with a smile.  "Tell me how your dinner date went.  Well, I hope?"" 

 

Emmett smiled broadly, a twinkle in his eye as he informed me, "Oh, it was superb, Baby!  One of my best dates _ever!_ Let me tell you, Mr. Tall, Dark, and VERY Hung, I might add, is just fine...MIGHTY fine.  He just barely had time to head off to the subway and get to work today, because I kept him very occupied until the wee hours of the night...and morning."  He winked at me.  "That was the 'only' wee thing about him, though," he told me in a stage whisper as he leaned closer to me, making me laugh.  "Whew, does he have sta-min-a!"  He took care to enunciate each syllable.  "I'm going to see him again tonight," he told me with a grin.  "We're going dancing at _Mood_!"   

 

I smiled.  "So he enjoys dancing, too?"  That was one of Emmett's favorite pastimes - well, that and having sex. 

 

"Well, if he doesn't, he will by the time _I_ get done!" he told me with a smirk as I grinned.  He turned back around to look at Brian.  "What about you?" 

 

"Huh?"

 

"You like to boogie, Sweet Thing?" 

 

"Uh...I've never...I don't..." Brian mumbled in embarrassment.  "I don't go to dance clubs," he finally told my friend. 

 

"Oh," Emmett replied, a little disappointed as he pouted. "Such a shame with a body like yours." I watched him look down then at his cellphone he had clutched in his hand as if he just remembered something.  "Oh, my God! I have to fly, Baby! My first appointment is in fifteen minutes!"  He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek before standing up.  "Call me soon, okay?"  He reached down to affectionately ruffle my hair.  "And call for an appointment, too; you're starting to look like one of the Beatles." 

 

I laughed.  "I will, I promise."  He nodded back at me as he took one last look at Brian.  "Nice to meet you, Gorgeous," he told him, an appreciative sparkle in his eye.  "We'll do lunch soon?" he asked me.

 

I nodded at him with a smile.  "Sounds good. I'll give you a call tomorrow." 

 

Emmett smiled.  "You do that!" he urged me, peering curiously again over at Brian. I knew he wanted to know a lot more than I was telling him about the extremely handsome, older man that was sitting next to me, but I _also_ knew he would wait until we were alone to grill me...and grill me he would, undoubtedly.   "See you!  And don't forget about that appointment, honey; you need it bad."

 

I laughed.  "I won't! Bye, Em!"

 

"Bye, boys!" he chirped back with a brief flick of his hand before he turned and rushed off in the direction of the main entrance to the park.  I shook my head in amusement at him; Em always made me smile, no matter what else was going on. 

 

I turned to smile at Brian and I explained, "He's a little over the top, but he has a heart of gold."  I heard Brian snort in response as I frowned.  "What?" 

 

"Over-the-top doesn't begin to describe him," Brian mused dryly, glimpsing Emmett one last time before he disappeared from sight.  "He's quite...flashy, isn't he?"

 

I studied Brian for a moment, wondering what the meaning was behind those words.  "I guess you could call him that," I replied slowly.  "Is that bad?" 

 

Brian shrugged.  "Well... _you_ don't dress that way," he pointed out.  "You dress...normally." 

 

I frowned, not liking what I was thinking.  "And just what _is_ normally?" 

 

Brian shifted on the bench.  "Well...you know..."

 

I couldn't help feeling affronted on behalf of my friend over the insinuation.  "No, I don't know. Why don't you enlighten me?  Normal for _what_?  Or for _whom_?"

 

I could see Brian struggling to formulate his words properly before he replied, "Well...you don't call attention to yourself, that's all."

 

I stared at him, not wanting to think what I was thinking.  "You mean I don't dress like I'm gay?  Is that what you mean?"

 

"No!" He responded sharply.  "I just mean that there's no point in making yourself the center of attention." 

 

"Did you feel embarrassed sitting next to him because of the way he dresses?  Just like you would feel embarrassed to be wearing that baseball cap I bought you?" 

 

I watched Brian rake his fingers through his hair.  "No, I mean...well...No!  But...don't gay people have enough of a stigma on them without making it obvious what they are?" 

 

"Making it obvious?" 

 

"Yes.  You saw the way he dressed.  And his mannerisms...they were so....so...."  He flailed his hands around for emphasis.

 

I fumed inside with disbelief.  "Gay?  Go ahead, Brian, say it."

 

"Okay!  _Yes_ , Justin! Gay!  Effeminate! Like some damn girl!  How do you put up with that?" 

 

I shook my head in dismay and utter disappointment.  "I don't _have_ to put up with anything, Brian.  Emmett is my friend.  He's been by my side, supporting me through thick and thin, and has been one of the most loyal friends I've ever had.  What difference does it make what he wears or how he acts?  I'm more interested in what's inside, and he has a heart of gold.  Apparently, though, I embarrass _you_ , too. So I'll spare you any _more_ awkwardness, and just leave!"  I quickly stood up and squatted down to unfasten Reggie's leash from around the bench leg.  "Come on, Reggie, we're going." 

 

"Justin, be reasonable!  You're nothing like him!" 

 

I stood back up, Reggie's leash gripped tightly in my hand.  "You just don't get it, do you, Brian?  You're too busy making sure every 'T' is signed, and every 'I' is dotted!  If someone doesn't come up to your ‘standards,' then there's something wrong with him!"

 

"I didn't say that!" 

 

I stared at him sadly. "You didn't have to. It was written all over your face.  It still is.  Well, guess what, Brian? I AM just like him.  I'm gay, too. And I'm not ashamed of that.  And maybe, just maybe, one day you will figure out that you're a lot more like us than you can admit.  Maybe someday you'll figure out who you really are. When you do, call me. Until then...until you can hold my hand in public, or...or kiss me in public without being embarrassed about it...or....or even wear a ball cap, just leave me the fuck _alone!_ "  I yanked a little more roughly on Reggie's leash than I had intended as my blood boiled.  Feeling guilty, I reached down and gently scooped the dog up into my arms.  "Come on, Boy. We're getting out of here."  I turned around and quickly walked away, refusing to let him see the tears that I knew would fall at any second and relieved when he didn't say another word.

 

* * *

 

_Thirty Minutes later...Justin's Apartment_

I noticed the red light flashing on my answering machine as I opened the door into my apartment, pausing to unfasten Reggie's leash and watch him scamper away toward his food dish before I hit the ‘play' button. 

 

_"Hey, Justin.  It's Derrick.  Look, I know we're not seeing each other anymore, but...I miss you.  Maybe we can still hang out and be friends?  Call me sometime, okay?  Uh...I guess that's all.  Hope to hear from you soon.  Bye."_

I brushed my cheeks with my fingertips to remove the wetness there; I had stopped the flow of waterworks several minutes ago, but my heart was still heavy with sadness.  I knew it was wrong; I knew I would regret it tomorrow, and that I would feel guilty as hell. But I needed it. And it wasn't like I hadn't told Derrick we could ever have a long-term relationship. And yet...

 

"Hey." 

 

"Hi!  I'm kind of surprised you called me back.  Are you okay?"  I had to hand it to my former ex; he always _was_ adept at picking up on my mood, sometimes to my consternation.   "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little tired."  I paused, biting my lip, knowing I shouldn't do it, but somehow unable to help myself.  I just wanted something, anything, to take the pain away that was this constant ache in my heart.  "Can you come over, Derrick?" 

 

I could hear his intake of breath before he replied softly, "Sure."

 

As we were fucking an hour later, just for that brief moment in time, I could forget.  I could be numb.  I could breathe.

 

* * *

_Brian's Apartment - the Next Morning...8:30 a.m._

"Coffee, Brian?"  Debbie reached down and scratched behind Mrs. Kinney's ears affectionately; in no time at all, she had wormed her way into this otherwise brusque lady's heart, just as she had mine.  And just as Justin had done as well.  I sighed at the thought of what had happened yesterday at the park.  I hadn't slept a wink all night, my thoughts a tangled jumble of emotions.   And it didn't take long for Debbie to figure that out, either.

 

"You look like shit," she commented as she handed me a steaming cup of sugar with a little coffee; at least that's how she often phrased it.  "What happened to YOU?" 

 

I'm sure by now Debbie was beginning to think I had lost my mind; not only did I feel - and apparently look - like something the proverbial cat had dragged in, but I hadn't come home at all the night before, which was a fairly rare occurrence, even when I was out late with a woman.  Of course, Justin hadn't been a woman; far from it.  I closed my eyes for a few seconds as the pain washed over me anew; no, Justin had been much more than just a sexual plaything. But that was also the problem.  "Thanks, Deb, for your sweet words of concern," I muttered as I took a large sip of my coffee, instantly regretting it when I received a burned tongue as a result.  "Fuck! Why didn't you warn me how hot this damned coffee was?" 

 

She snorted at me.  "It's the same temperature it always is, Mr. Sunshine," she uttered, making me immediately think of someone whose smile was like sunshine.  I would have never thought about it that way, but it was an apt description.

 

I scowled over at her.  "Just leave me alone." 

 

She placed her left hand on her ample waist as she glared back at me; she always _could_ give as good as she got.  "What is going _on_ with you?  You didn't come home at ALL night before last.  Now you drag your ass in here looking like some bum from Hell's Kitchen.  Look at you!" she growled as she gave me a long sweep of her eyes, starting with my hair and landing at my feet.  "You never come to the kitchen table looking like... _that_."  She motioned with her hand as if I were some smelly flotsam that had fallen off a lower Manhattan barge. 

 

"So I decided to slum a little," I countered as I tentatively took a sip of my now-tolerable coffee.  I shrugged.  "I'm retired.  Retired people don't have to get up and go to work."

 

"Uh, huh."  Debbie peered down at the ever-present Mrs. Kinney.  "And I suppose you're planning on taking her for a walk looking like that?"

 

"So what if I am?"  Although in my current state - unshaven face, un-showered body, and wearing a wrinkled pair of pajamas - she knew damn well I wouldn't be caught dead being seen in public this way.  I downed the rest of my coffee before abruptly scooting back from the table, glancing downward as a hopeful, luminous pair of dark eyes stared up at me expectantly.  Any other day, Mrs. Kinney and I would be heading out for our daily morning walk to go visit a certain someone and _his_ pooch.  However, today there was no way I could face Justin; not after what had happened, and not before I tried to figure out what the fuck I was doing.  "Do me a favor, and call down to the front lobby to see if someone can take her out," I asked Debbie, suddenly feeling very weary, and not due to my physical state.  I needed to get my shit together; I just didn't know at the moment how to do that.

 

Debbie eyed me curiously, a hint of worry in her eyes; despite all her bluster, I knew how much she cared about me, and truthfully, me about her. We had been together for a long time now. But this was definitely something I couldn't discuss with her.  "Brian?" She conveyed so much in that one word, but I shook my head.

 

"Just do it, okay, Deb?" I urged her softly.  "I'm going to go take a shower." 

 

She stared over at me for a few seconds before nodding, and as I walked away I could feel her eyes on my retreating form. 

 

* * *

_That Evening - Freeman Church - 3rd Person POV_

_What in the hell am I doing here?_ Claire thought to herself, as she stood several feet away from the church Emmett had told her about the other day.  Night had fallen over the fairly deserted street located off the main drag in Manhattan, and numerous streetlights cast shadows over the buildings and the tree-lined sidewalk.  She glanced around furtively, anyway, still thinking that at any second someone who knew her would recognize her, and wonder why she was sneaking around this area after dark.  She didn't know what possessed her to come here after talking to Emmett about her ‘dilemma,' but she loved her son, and knew that if she were to continue a healthy relationship with him, she needed to understand why he was attracted to other men. She needed to find out more about ‘gay people,' even though Emmett insisted they were just like everyone else.  She just didn't know, however, that she could go through with this. It felt way too much like an AA meeting, or going to a priest for confession.

 

As she walked closer to the steps of the impressive, stone church, she noticed a young man wearing a baseball cap, sitting to one side, his legs bent and drawn up toward his chest; hearing a sound, he turned to peer over at her with a contemplative expression on his face. There was an earnest expression he wore that somehow emboldened her to approach closer to speak to him.

 

"Excuse me.  Is this where...you know... people meet?"  She noticed the young blond's cap with the letters PFLAG on it, so she knew she had to be in the right place.   

 

Justin eyed the woman curiously; despite her expensive, designer coat, her meticulously fashioned hair, and her perfectly manicured nails, he wasn't that surprised to see her here.  There were all walks of life inside the church; wealth and prosperity did not preclude anyone from feeling confused, dismayed, or even heartbroken over the fact that one of their loved ones was gay.  Getting those feelings out in the open, however, and working through them was the most effective way to change minds and opinions about what many termed an ‘illness.'  He normally would be inside by now, leading one of the discussion groups.  He came here every week to do that. But tonight, he had let someone else lead the talk; he couldn't find the strength to go inside and face them.  Perhaps there was a reason why he had stayed out here, he decided, as he peered up at her and half-smiled in response to her statement. 

 

He nodded.  "Yes.  This is where the PFLAG meetings are held.  You can go on in; they're just getting started."  He watched as she stood there, seemingly in indecision; it wouldn't be the first - or last - time he had seen someone do that.  Everyone had their own reaction to PFLAG meetings:  some derided them, some tolerated them, and some ridiculed them, while others welcomed them.  Through the shadows cast from the streetlamp nearby, he could clearly see the reluctance on the woman's face.  "Something wrong?" he asked softly, releasing his legs to stretch them out in front of his body to lessen some of the stiffness from having sat in the same position for too long.

 

Claire gazed down at the young man perched a few feet away; there was something about him that made her want to confide in him, a complete stranger, as she admitted, "I don't think I can go in there."  She let forth with a nervous laugh.  "I'm not sure I even _belong_ in there." 

 

Justin smiled in understanding.  "I've heard that before," he told her. 

 

Claire nodded.  "So...you're one of them?" 

 

Justin chuckled over her phrasing.  "Yeah, I'm afraid so," he told her congenially.  He scooted over a little more on the steps as he asked her, "Want to join me?"  Sensing her hesitation in sitting on the dusty landing, he quietly removed his jacket and placed it down on the ground next to him.

 

 

She didn't know what possessed her to accept his invitation, but Claire decided this friendly-looking man was a safer and less confrontational choice then going inside, and she knew she needed help with her son, so she nodded, gingerly sitting down next to him. 

 

"The name's Justin," he told her, sticking his hand out toward her.

 

She hesitated a few moments before grasping his hand in hers.  "Claire," she responded politely as he nodded.  "So...are you a participant?  A family member, or a friend?" 

 

Justin shook his head.  "No, neither, actually.  Well, I guess in a way I AM a participant.  I normally lead one of the discussions that take place inside...but today I felt like staying out here."  He stared straight ahead, his mind still occupied on what had happened between him and Brian, before he turned back to face his new companion.  "So if I may ask...what are _you_ doing here? I'm assuming someone you know is gay?" 

 

She sighed.  "Yes.  My son.  Brad."   She shook her head.  "He was raised in a strict Catholic family.  We've been Catholic for generations.  My family helped build this city in a lot of ways through good old blood, sweat, and tears."  She paused.  "I had such dreams for him. Such high hopes.  Now..."

 

Justin urged her quietly, "Now _what_?" 

 

"Now he's going to throw it all away...no children...no wife..."  She shook her head.  "I just don't understand why someone would do that." 

 

Justin studied her; it was obvious she was dismayed about it.  "He told you he was gay?" 

 

She shook her head.  "No...not in so many words," she admitted as she fished inside her Louis Vuitton purse for a cigarette; she lit it up with a gold-toned lighter before she continued.  "But he never takes any girls out on dates, and keeps mainly to himself. And he seems to be really good friends with a couple of other men.  He never talks about any girls, or any dates he's been on.  I just...know."   She sighed.  "And I don't know what to do about it." 

 

"Well, there's one thing you need to understand," he told her gently; he realized she wasn't some bigot, but merely misinformed. She was miles away from his own father, who had disowned him years ago, and now treated him like he didn't exist. "Being gay isn't something you can cure, or change.  It's who someone _is_.  Some gays don't realize until they're in their teens that they ARE gay; they just know they're different somehow from everyone else.  And even once they DO find out they're gay, they can be subjected to taunts, ridicule, bullying, isolation...or even worse.  That's why some people might realize deep down that they're attracted to people of the same sex, but they're afraid of the repercussions if they come out and admit it to themselves...or to their family or friends." 

 

Claire nodded, taking another drag of her cigarette.  "You think that's the case with my son." 

 

Justin shrugged.  "It's possible.  He may be denying his true identity to himself; or even if he does know that he's gay, he could be afraid of what your reaction might be."  He paused for a few moments before asking, "Is there a father in the picture? Siblings?"

 

Claire snorted.  "His father is a do-nothing who only married me because he couldn't find anything better...his words, not mine," she verified.  "Once he found someone else to his liking, he dropped me like yesterday's news.  Good riddance, I say.  He doesn't have a thing to do with Brad, emotionally OR financially."

 

"I'm sorry." 

 

"Don't be," Claire told him.  "I'm not.  I never should have married the ass in the first place." She stubbed out her cigarette on the cement steps before studying the young man sitting next to her.  "You seem perfectly sane," she observed.  "Normal, even." 

 

Justin chuckled slightly.  "I am," he told her in amusement.  "I'm just like you and everybody else.  I just happen to be attracted to men rather than women.  But I have the same hopes, dreams, joys, sadness, and other emotional ups and downs just like everyone else.  And so does your son.  All he wants is for you to love him and respect his decisions in life...whether it's his choice of a mate, his career, where he lives, anything.  Just like any other child would want from their parent." 

 

"It's not that easy for me," Claire maintained.  "I've...never been exposed to this sort of thing.  What do I say when he DOES bring home some...some man as his boyfriend?" She shuddered, unable to help herself.  "How am I going to handle that?"

 

"You handle it just like any _other_ person he brings home...you get to know the person, not the label.  Trust me, your son will love you all the more if you do." 

 

"You're saying he won't love me if I don't?" 

 

Justin reflected on his own feelings toward his father.  Despite how horrid his father had treated him - and their present estrangement - deep down he still loved the man.  He didn't respect him...but he still loved him for some insane reason, and he suspected that this woman's son would feel the same.  "No," he told her.  "I think he'll still love you," he told her.  "But all the respect he holds for you will be gone. And your relationship will no doubt become strained."

 

"You sound like you speak from experience," Claire commented curiously, noticing a flicker of distress cross the young man's face. 

 

"I do," Justin whispered, the pain still raw, even all this time.  "And I'm trying to avoid the same sort of thing from happening between you and YOUR son." 

 

Claire considered his words.  "It won't be easy for me," she told him.  "I still don't understand how a man can...like another man."

 

"Fair enough," Justin replied.  "And you don't really _have_ to understand.  Just accept your son for who he is, and support him.  The rest will come eventually.  He's still the same son he's always been. But if you can learn to accept him for who is he, then he will be more inclined to include you in his life.  Otherwise, you run the risk of driving him away."

 

She studied his words carefully as she peered into his face.  "Like _your_ father did?" she surmised astutely.

 

Justin swallowed the lump in his throat.  "Yes," was his simple response. 

 

She nodded.  "I'll try.  That's all I can do." 

 

"That's all he will expect of you.  Just knowing you will make the effort will mean the world to him.  The rest of it you can both figure out as you go along." He watched as she pushed herself back up to stand.  "I'm glad you stopped by," he told her with a small smile.  "I wish more people like you would.  Maybe if they did, there wouldn't be so much misunderstanding and hate in this world.  I hope you'll come back," he encouraged her.  "Even if it's just for us to have another talk. I'd really like to see how it goes between you and your son."

 

Claire picked up her purse and slid it onto her shoulder.  "I'll think about it," she told him, still not sure she wanted to run the risk of someone she knew catching her attending PFLAG meetings.  She paused after taking a step to leave.  "Thank you, though, Justin.  You've been a big help."

 

Justin smiled with nod.  "You're welcome," he told her softly.  "Good luck."

 

With a nod, she turned and slowly walked down the sidewalk before eventually disappearing into the darkness, leaving Justin there on the steps, alone

 


	7. Comfort and Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin and Brian both try to deal with their pain, while lines begin to converge. What will be the result?

_Later that Evening...Justin's Apartment...Justin's POV_

Feeling weary down to my bones, I slid my key into the lock and swung the door open; my melancholy thoughts were temporarily forgotten as Reggie came bounding up to greet me, his pig-curled tail wagging furiously in delight.  "Hey, Buddy," I murmured, as I threw my keys down on my side table and squatted down to pet him.  "Need to go out?" I asked, his tail wagging so much at my words that for the first time in a couple days I had to laugh.  "I guess that's a yes," I decided, as I reached to grab his leash hanging on one of the coat hooks.  Bending down to pick him up temporarily, I hooked the leash to his collar and headed out for his walk. 

 

I deliberately avoided walking toward Central Park, choosing instead to travel in the opposite direction toward a smaller greenspace.  I did not want anything at the moment to remind me of _him_.  But who was I kidding?  Just telling myself not to walk anywhere near the park because of him just made me think about him MORE.  Since that night two days ago, I hadn't seen him since then; I suspected he was deliberately avoiding me and our bench so he didn't have to face me. And truthfully, I wasn't sure that I wanted to see him. He had disappointed me for the first time since we had met.  His treatment of one of my dearest and sweetest friends had been uncalled for, even if he _was_ new to this lifestyle.  Even if Emmett had been straight, it would have been unacceptable.  He had acted like Emmett was an alien from another planet.  Not to mention that he wouldn't even try on the ball cap I had given him.  "He probably thought THAT was too gay for him, too," I muttered to myself.  I sighed as I stopped to let Reggie take care of his business near one of the larger trees, perching on a cement ledge nearby as I swung my legs idly back and forth.  Unfortunately, despite how disappointed I was in Brian, I had to admit the truth:  I still couldn't stop thinking about him.  Worse than that, I was afraid that I might be falling in love with the bastard. 

 

"Oh, Reggie," I mourned as his large, bulbous eyes peered up at me.  "What am I going to do?"  I let out a deep sigh.  "Come on; we'd better get back," I told him, the night serving to mask my presence but not my pain.

 

 

I immediately heard rattling in my kitchen as soon as I unlocked my front door several minutes later to enter, but I wasn't fearful; the rapid wagging of Reggie's tale as he scampered out to greet our 'guest' - and the cursing spewing nearby - alerted me to whom my burglar was, and despite my mood, I had to smile slightly in response.  "It's customary, you know, to wait until people are HOME to visit."

 

Daphne came waltzing out with a glass of white wine in one hand, and her cellphone in the other. "I was just about to call you, I swear!"

 

"Yeah, yeah, I've heard that before," I grumbled good-naturedly as she walked up and kissed me on the cheek.  She shivered.  "Geez, Justin!  Next time wear a REAL coat!"

 

I rolled my eyes as I followed her into the living room.  "I was just out long enough to walk Reggie," I explained as she handed me her glass.

 

"Here, this'll warm you up; I'll go get the bottle and another glass." 

 

I nodded as she walked away, taking a tentative drink before placing it down onto the coffee table in front of me.  Even though I presently didn't feel much like having any company, I couldn't very well tell Daphne I didn't want her here. She was my closest and best friend, and - like Emmett - had been there whenever I needed her.  So I resolved to try and lift my mood while she was here - or at least act like I was happy, anyway.

 

I looked up and plastered on a smile as she walked back to me, Reggie clicking along behind her with what appeared to be a rawhide chew in his mouth; obtained, no doubt, from the cookie jar I kept on the counter.  I groaned.  "Daphne!  I thought I told you no doggie treats after dinner.  I'll have to wind up taking him out again - or risk having doggie diarrhea on my wood floor tomorrow morning."

 

She tsked tsked.  "Oh, hush up!  That's the turkey jerky treats, not a rawhide.  He'll be fine.  Besides, who can resist that pudgy face?" she asked, practically cooing at my dog.

 

I rolled my eyes as she studied me intently.  "You're not just grumpy because you're cold, or I gave Reggie a treat," she decided.  "What's wrong?"

 

I swallowed hard, feeling like someone who had been caught doing something they shouldn't have.  "Nothing," I dismissed her.  "I'm fine."

 

She squinted her eyes at me as if that would tell her more.  "No, it's not.  Something is bothering you; I can see it."

 

I barked out a nervous laugh that sounded hollow even to me.  "What? Do I have 'sick' written on my forehead?"

 

"No...," she slowly replied as she continued to stare so intently at me that I actually felt uncomfortable.  I averted my eyes and reached for my glass to take another drink.  "No, it's not that.  It's your smile." 

 

I turned to look at her and DID smile slightly then.  "My smile?  Do I have something between my teeth? Bad breath?  Never mind; tell me about the new guy at work.  Have you two conducted any business between the sheets yet?" I teased her. But even to me I didn't sound like myself, and she recognized my diversionary tactic for what it was. 

 

"No, it's what your smile _isn't_ saying," she continued, ignoring my questions.  She gasped in astute realization.  "It's that guy, isn't it?" Her eyes narrowed with concern.  "What did he do to you, Justin?"  Her normally perky self suddenly disappeared, and her 'Dr. Daphne' persona emerged. 

 

I took one more drink to steel myself before placing the now-empty glass down onto the coffee table with a little more force than I had intended.  "Nothing," I tried to explain.  "He...he did _nothing_."  _Something...everything..._ Against my will, my eyes began to tear up.  I took a deep breath, still not able to meet my friend in the eyes, because she knew me way too well.  "Uh...want something to eat?" I asked, beginning to stand up. But she promptly grabbed my wrist and pulled me back down.

 

"No, Justin," she told me firmly as she put her own glass down next to mine. "What I want is the truth.  What did this guy do to you?  You couldn't shut up about him the other day; now it's as if he doesn't exist.  You never DID tell me what happened at dinner.  He DID come to dinner, didn't he?"

 

I sighed, knowing there was going to be no way to avoid this conversation; perhaps I didn't want to.  I snorted.  "Yeah, he came to dinner, all right; and then he came _after_ dinner.  He really fucked me over."

 

She gasped, her eyes wide.   "Oh, my God!  You mean fucked you over as in _fucked you over_?  Or do you mean he REALLY fucked you over?" 

 

I didn't really have to answer her question, because as I looked into her eyes and she saw the pain there, she instantly knew. 

 

"Oh, no," she murmured as she pulled me closer to her.  "The two of you actually fucked after dinner?  You told me you didn't even know if he was gay!"

 

I laughed derisively.  "Oh, he's gay, all right.  He might not have ever fucked a man before, but he's definitely gay.  I fucked him...and then he fucked me.  In more ways than one."  Again, my eyes teared up and my face clouded over as the pain washed over me, and the tears finally began to fall freely as my face crumpled and I gave into my emotions.  "Daphne, he screwed me.  He fucked me...he stayed the night with me...and then he left as if we had just conducted some sort of business meeting.  And...and then when we finally met up again at the park," I took a deep breath as Daphne's fingers slowly stroked the skin around my wrist, "...then he embarrassed me around Emmett." 

 

She frowned.  "Emmett? How did he do that?"

 

I took another breath and let it out to compose myself as Daphne reached up with one hand to tenderly wipe my tears away, tucking some errant hair behind my ear as she stared quietly into my eyes, offering me the support that I so desperately needed.  "Emmett, at least, didn't seem to notice.  But when he ran into me at the park, I saw Brian staring at him when he sat down between us. And later he commented on what Emmett had been wearing, and asked me how I could associate with someone so 'gay.'  And...and then when I tried to give him a gift," I told her as her eyes widened slightly more in surprise. I laughed in self-loathing as I explained, "It was just a Yankees ball cap.  You know how I always like to wear one," I continued as she nodded.  "Well, I tried to give him one, too, with his favorite team on it, and he took it, but very reluctantly. He said he 'didn't _wear_ ball caps'."  I shook my head as the tears fell more freely now as my heart was laid bare; I knew it wasn't the ball cap that was making me upset.  "Daphne, he hurt me. God, he hurt me so much.  I felt like some sort of experiment. And...and the worst thing is..."

 

"What?" she pressed softly. 

I sniffled as she continued to wipe my cheeks with the pads of her fingers.  "The worst thing is, I think I was falling in love with him.  God, how stupid can I be?" I asked her.  "I...I even asked Derrick to come over," I admitted as she sucked in a sharp breath.

 

"You mean...you asked him over to..."

 

I nodded in shame.  "Yeah...I don't know why I did it.  And I have no intention of continuing our relationship."  I swallowed, hating myself for what I had done.  "I used him, Daph," I choked out.  "Just like Brian had used me." 

 

"Oh, Justin," Daphne replied, her voice breaking as she pulled me into her arms and my head fell into her lap.  I cried openly now as she slowly stroked my hair with her slender fingers.  "Everything will be okay," she murmured soothingly as she tried her best to comfort me.  "I'm not sure how," she admitted softly.  "But it will. And I'll be right here with you." 

 

I nodded, too overcome with emotion and weariness to reply.  Soon, I gave into my exhaustion and fell asleep, my head still on her lap. 

 

_One Month Later...One Week before Christmas..._

_"No! No you asshole! Stay away from the fucking ornaments!  And get your nose out of that damn box!"_

I heard Debbie huff from several feet away, her typical weapon - a feather duster - grasped in her hand.  "Her name isn't asshole, you asshole," she barked.  "Even though Mrs. Kinney isn't much better," she muttered, shaking her head.  I scowled at her as I walked over and picked up the stocky bundle of mass destruction.  I sighed as I held her out in front of me and stared at her, her large, luminous eyes peering innocently back at me.  "You and Christmas just don't mix," I grumbled, unable to really stay angry at her.  Truthfully, her companionship and unfaltering faithfulness to me has been the only type of solace I had had lately, ever since the fiasco with Justin.  I turned my head to peer over at Debbie, who was still standing there immobile.  "Well?  Don't you have some ivories to tickle, or some bunnies to dust?" 

 

"Always," she smirked back at me.  "Especially in an apartment _this_ size." She shook her head.  "What has got your panties in such a knot lately, Brian? Ever since you got back from that 'all-night' buffet you attended, it's as if you've got a stick up your ass - even more than normal," she added as I grunted.  "What exactly happened that night?" she asked me point blank.  Of course, it wasn't the first time she had asked me...and she was going to get the same response she got all the OTHER times. 

 

"I told you," I replied brusquely as I walked over with Mrs. Kinney to the closet to retrieve her leash.  "It's none of your fucking business."  I opened the door to grab her leash where it hung in its customary place on a hook on the other side before attaching it to her collar.  "I'm taking her out."

 

I could hear Debbie heavily sigh as I turned and, without another word, opened the door and left. 

 

 

Ten minutes later, I was sitting at the same bench upon which I always sat, still hoping against hope that Justin might finally show up like he had before...before I had been such an idiot and had been so despicable to him and to his friend.  I still didn't quite understand why someone had to be so 'flashy' as this Emmett was, and so...so 'out there,' I guess was the way to put it. But I had _also_ come to realize several other things:  one, Emmett's style of dress and his mannerisms - while way too over-the-top for my taste - did not affect ME, and two, I had been a total jerk to him.  I knew I couldn't 'catch' something from someone who was gay; I was well-read, and I wasn't stupid. Well, not stupid when it came to information about things such as AIDS.  But I WAS stupid when it came to ostracizing myself from the man that I loved.

 

Yes, I had come to the painful realization, the stunning realization, that somewhere along the line - even before Justin and I had had that fateful 'date' - I had managed to fall in love with him. The first man I had ever been attracted to, and the first man I had ever been intimate with.  How the hell that had happened, I had no idea. But I could no longer deny it to myself.

 

I peered down as Mrs. Kinney whimpered.  "Yeah, I know..." I murmured, as I reached down to scratch behind her ears. "It really sucks, doesn't it?  Missing your friend, too, huh?"  I shivered, hugging myself as I huddled against the brisk wind that had abruptly arisen, signaling the beginning of winter.  It matched my dark, melancholy mood.  It had been several weeks since I had last spoken with Justin here on this park bench.  Since then, I had tried to contact him, but to my irritation I couldn't call him, because I had never had the foresight to ask for his damn cellphone number. After all, I saw him regularly each morning, and we had never met anywhere else outside the park until that one, life-altering night.  My attempts to travel over to his apartment and speak to him face-to-face had been met with a stone of silence from the other end of the door, even though the other three tenants on the same floor had certainly heard me - and they had quite vociferously voiced their displeasure at my pounding on Justin's door, and my shouting for him to talk to me.  After a week of daily visits to Justin's apartment to no avail, I decided I had to face the facts:  he didn't want anything to do with me.

 

I sighed as I reached down and picked Mrs. Kinney up to hold her in my lap.  I almost wished that I had never met Justin, much less spent the night with him, because I would have just continued on like I had before, with no knowledge of what it would be like to be with someone you were truly meant to be with, instead of someone who you were _expected_ to be with.  I now knew that there was a world of difference between the two, and I mourned what I had lost.  I mourned seeing his smile light up as I met him here on our bench. I mourned the feeling that I had experienced that morning, waking up in his arms.  I mourned his touches and his caresses; his playfulness, his passion for what he believed in, his intelligence, and his zest for life.  Simply speaking, I missed everything about him, and I just didn't know how to handle it. 

 

I glanced down at my Rolex, knowing I had to get back home soon.  My nephew, Brad, was coming over along with Claire to take me out to lunch to celebrate my birthday, except I felt like doing anything BUT celebrating today.  I knew, however, that if I tried to avoid the customary, yearly ritual that had been occurring now for the past ten years I would never hear the end of it from Claire.  I stood up and gently placed my bulky companion down onto the ground before untying the leash from around the park bench leg.  "Better get going, girl," I told her.  "Happy Birthday to me.  Yay," I exclaimed half-heartedly as we slowly made our way back toward the park entrance.

 

_Same Time - Daphne's Photo Studio - Justin's POV_

 

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," I muttered.  "Who the hell needs a picture that's the size of an elephant?" 

 

Daphne giggled.  "Oh, man up, Taylor," she told me as I huffed.  "It's going behind the man's couch.  It's not MY fault if it's a really BIG couch." 

 

I snorted.  "Really big? That's like calling Air Force One a paper airplane."  With a heavy sigh of resignation, however, I leaned down to pick up the bottom of the framed photograph that lay resting against her hallway wall.  As I peered down at it, I had to admit this one was one of my favorite photos that Daphne had taken - it was a panoramic shot of Central Park, taken near the lake and encompassing some of the outrageously expensive apartment buildings that towered over it.  I tried not to focus on the fact that one of them was probably Brian's building.  I had never been to his place, although from the direction he took to get to and from the park bench, and the way he described his view of the park, it wasn't too much of a stretch to think that I was looking at his penthouse at the top of one of those buildings.

 

_Brian_.  I had tried hard over the past couple of weeks to push him out of my mind. But I hadn't made the mistake of further encouraging Derrick by asking him over again.  It had taken a great deal of fortitude for me to call him up a couple of days after we had had sex to admit why I had done it.  As I would have expected, he was offended and upset, but I felt he deserved the truth.  Instead, I had filled my time with meeting Emmett for lunch, spending some quiet time with Daphne in the evenings, taking Reggie for long walks (anywhere but near 'that' bench), continuing to volunteer for PFLAG at the church, and painting - lots of lots of painting.  My art had always been my refuge in times of distress, and this level of anxiety was off the charts.  I obsessed over Brian...his feel, his touches, his smell, his long, lean body, his velvety, soft voice...even his dorkiness in the way he dressed identically every day. Except that I had realized after the fact that the night he came for dinner, he had let go just a bit.  He had loosened the buttons of his shirt, he had worn no tie, and even his hair was a little mussed.  I understood now how that was a type of compliment to me, that he had felt safe to move outside his comfort zone that night.  I had sadly _also_ realized, however, that after we had slept together he just couldn't admit who he really was, and that it just wasn't meant to be.  He lived in his world, and I lived in mine.

 

I had been gratified to see Claire returning to the PLAG meetings, although like that first night she never ventured further than the front steps. That was fine with me.  I was still contributing something worthwhile toward acceptance of gays, while helping make this confused and skittish woman more comfortable with her son's sexual orientation, although from what she told me that still hadn't quite happened.  She continued to be uneasy about it. But whether or not her son Brad DID wind up being gay - or just a shy sort of guy - it still made me feel like I was doing something commendable with my time, and it kept me from dwelling on Brian too much.

 

"Uh....Justin? Earth to Justin?" 

 

I blinked, looking over sheepishly at Daphne as I realized I had zoned out once I had picked up my end of the framed photo.  "Sorry..."

 

She eyed me sympathetically, knowing full well what - or who - I was thinking about.  "Ready to do this?" she asked me softly.

 

I glanced down at her high heels and laughed.  " _I_ am. I'm not so sure about you, though. You're going to take this up to the man's apartment in stilettos?  Is this guy hot, Daph?"

 

She shrugged.  "How do I know?  I've never seen him before." She smiled at me perkily.  "But a girl can never be too prepared, just in case."

 

I laughed.  "How in the world did you sell it to him, then, sight unseen?  I know you told me you hadn't had time to even put it up on your website for sale yet." 

 

"Hey, I'm VERY persuasive," she teased me.

 

I grinned.  "Yes, you are," I conceded.  "But even _you_ aren't that good of a saleswoman.  Spill."

 

She laughed.  "Okay...I confess.  You remember my new assistant, right?" 

 

"Boris? Buford?"

 

She would have thrown a camera at me if she had had a free hand as she replied with a laugh, "No, you moron!  His name's Brad, and you know it!"

 

"Ohhh, yeah," I told her with a wry grin.  "So what _about_ Mr. Hot Guy?"  For the past several weeks, Daphne had been regaling me with daily accounts of her powers of seduction when it came to her assistant. So far, however, he had not taken the bait, to her dismay. But I knew with someone as determined as Daphne that the poor guy didn't stand a chance; it was just a matter of time. 

 

"Well, it's for his uncle's birthday," she explained. 

 

I looked at her in disbelief.  "How can he afford this on his salary? Don't tell me you cut the price just to get into this guy's pants." 

 

She harrumphed in offense.  "Please...you know me better than that!  Even I have standards."  I rolled my eyes as she added, "Unless he's Brad PITT, no one gets a discount on my photos...except maybe YOU." 

 

I laughed.  "You already did that, remember?"  One of my favorite photos back at my apartment was one she had taken of Reggie for me as MY birthday present.  Of course, that one had been free, but a couple other ones I had admired of hers had been purchased for a song...I knew all along that Daphne normally charged a hell of a lot more for her photos than she had charged me.  She would have probably given them to me, but I had insisted on paying something.  I had already bartered a couple other ones by painting two art pieces for her, so it had worked out well in furnishing both our apartments. 

 

"Oh, yeah," she replied as I grinned.  "Anyway, his mom actually paid for it after he showed her a copy of it. She thought it would be perfect for her brother's birthday." 

 

I nodded.  "Clever girl. Selling one of your photos and not even having to advertise it."

 

"I AM clever," Daphne agreed, causing me to chuckle.  "After all, I talked YOU into helping me move this, didn't I?"

 

I grinned.  "Touché."  I paused before asking, "By the way, speaking of this stud muffin of yours, why didn't you get HIM to help you?  He _is_ your assistant."

 

"I gave him the day off.  He and his mom are taking his uncle out for his birthday. He's very fond of him...and besides, I knew you would help me for free."  She laughed as I scowled over at her in response.

 

"Awfully damn sure of yourself, aren't you?" I told her as she beamed back at me smugly.  I grunted with exertion as we passed through the studio's open door.  "Stop for a sec," I asked her as I used my foot to close the door behind us firmly, hearing the click of the lock.  I took a deep breath, taking advantage of the brief break, before I told her, "Okay...elevator.  And don't trip on those lethal heels!"

 

She giggled as we managed to walk the twenty feet or so to the elevator, Daphne using her elbow to press the 'down' button.  Thankfully, no one happened to be using it at the moment, so it didn't take long for it to arrive.

 

"This is one of those Kodak moments when I wished your studio was on the 35th floor, instead of the 5th," I joked with her as we took advantage of the time we had to briefly lower the burdensome object down to the floor as the elevator descended. 

 

She smiled at me affectionately.  "I appreciate you helping me, Justin," she told me.  "I know I can always depend on you when I need it."

 

I flushed at the compliment.  "That goes both ways, you know," I replied as she nodded with a smile. If it hadn't been for Daphne and for Emmett these past several weeks, I know I would have allowed myself to be dragged down into an emotional abyss.  Ever since that night with Brian, I couldn't get him off my mind. But at least with my two dearest friends, I had been able to occupy my time with some more pleasant activities, and their constant checking up on me by phone, text, and email definitely had helped to lift my spirits somewhat.  I still knew, however, that it would be some time before I would stop thinking about him - if ever. 

 

The dinging of the elevator bell, signaling we had arrived at the lobby floor, brought me out of my reverie as we both in one motion reached down to grab a corner of the photo.  We almost knocked a distinguished, elderly gentlemen to the ground as the door opened, but he managed somehow to avoid a collision as he hurriedly stepped aside to allow us to pass. 

 

Five strenuous minutes later - along with some help from the building's doorman, who graciously opened the front door for us and even the back gate of Daphne's utility truck - we finally managed to carefully slide the framed object into her vehicle, where we laid it flat upon a large blanket that she always kept ready for just these sort of trips.

 

Just like always, the traffic around Central Park was atrocious, but oddly enough it didn't feel oppressive to me; a lighter flow of vehicles would have felt out of place here as Daphne navigated slowly around the sea of taxis, personal automobiles, horse-drawn carriages, and human-powered bicycle tour guides that always congregated near the entrances, constantly on the prowl for their next customer.   I squeezed my eyes shut once as she barely by some miracle missed a limo that had parked too far out from the curb in front of the Astoria, opening my eyes as she snorted over my reaction.  I grinned back at her, silently thanking her for being such a good friend and helping to take my mind off 'other things.'  _No, don't go there, Taylor_ , I scolded myself.  _It's over and done with_.  I DID know one thing, however; I would not be taking Reggie to one particular part of Central Park from now on. The possibility of running into Brian would just be too painful for the indefinite future, and I couldn't handle that right now.  Maybe never.

 

I watched as Daphne slowed down in front of one of the swankier buildings surrounding the park as she veered into a short-term loading spot reserved for ten-minute deliveries.  "Boy, you lucked out," I observed, knowing it was normally near-to-impossible to snag one of those prized spots.

 

"Good thing," she told me as she stopped the small box truck.  "Or you might have collapsed on the sidewalk from overexertion."   

 

"Me?  I think it would have been the other way around, Miss Five-Inch Heels," I retorted with a grin as she laughed. 

 

We both opened our doors and jumped down from the truck as I opened the back.  I peered up at a distinguished-looking man decked out in a crisp, black uniform as I called out, "Can you hold the door for us, please?"  The man nodded back at me in agreement.  "Thanks."

 

I took a deep breath.  "Okay...Here goes," I told her as I climbed inside the back of the truck so I could push the bulky object toward the back to help expedite removing it.  "Just remember, Ms. Money Bags.  You owe me lunch - and dessert - at Maloney's after we get done." 

 

She grinned. "Duly noted.  I could take you to Maloney's every day this week, in fact, with the price on THIS one," she divulged. 

 

I jumped down beside her to take hold of the one end as she grasped the other.  "Don't be cocky," I teased her, feeling proud and happy for her, but also just a bit envious.  Slowly we traversed from the vehicle, up onto the curb, and then carefully up the five or six steps leading into the expensive-looking building, the doorman tipping his cap and offering us a polite hello as we walked inside. 

 

"Wow," I murmured, as I looked up at the outrageously large crystal chandelier hanging above us on the ceiling.  The entire lobby looked like something out of a Grecian palace, with marble floors and walls, interlaced with panels of glass behind the concierge's curved station.  A man dressed in similar attire to the doorman sat at a chair behind the desk as Daphne called out her name, and explained she was delivering a gift to the penthouse for her assistant.  He had told her he would be explaining to the security guard that she would be coming around this time. 

 

The man nodded as Daphne and I placed the object down just long enough for her to sign in as a visitor.  "Top floor," the concierge told us.  "Take the elevator on the far right.  I have activated the button you'll need to press that will take you to the 18th floor.  Someone will need to call down here when you're ready to leave so it can reactivated," he told Daphne as my eyes widened at the precautions taken for this resident.

 

As we entered the elevator a short time later, we once more placed the object down to prop it up against the back of the car.  "Penthouse?" 

 

She nodded with a smile.  "I told you this guy was well off." 

 

I shook my head in amazement.  "You didn't tell me he lived in the fucking penthouse, though."  She beamed smugly at me as I gaped at her, open-mouthed.  "You've finally arrived, Kid," I told her in my best John Wayne accent as I playfully cuffed her on the cheek.  She giggled as we both stood near the doors, peering down through the clear walls of the elevator as the floors slowly flashed by us.  "So this is how the other half lives," I commented as we stood side-by-side.

 

"Maybe we won't ever live in a penthouse," Daphne said softly beside me.  "But when it comes to friends, we already have riches beyond compare."

 

I turned to stare at her, profoundly moved by the wisdom of those words.  I smiled.  "Yeah...we do," I agreed, as I leaned over to kiss her on the cheek.  I reached over to grasp her hand as she twined her fingers with mine, suddenly feeling like the luckiest man in the city.

 


	8. You're Gay?!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pieces finally come together. But will it be the way everyone thinks? And will Brian and Justin be able to resolve their differences?

_Same Time - Brian's Penthouse - Brian's POV_

"For God's sake, Brian! I know you're over 40 now, but do you have to look like I'm taking you to your own funeral, rather than out to lunch?" my sister sniped. 

 

I glanced over at my nephew, who fixed a sympathetic stare on me, before I sighed.  "I told you before, Claire; I didn't want anything special done for my birthday."

 

"It's just lunch, Brian; not a royal coronation!  We _always_ take you out for lunch on your birthday.  Why are you in such a foul mood today?" She paused as she scrutinized me so intently it made me squirm a little as I stood next to the fireplace with my nephew, a glass of champagne in my hand.  Claire had insisted on 'celebrating' my birthday today with her customary toast like she always did - and with one of my most expensive brands, too - but I felt anything but celebratory at the moment.  All I could think about for the past several weeks was how I had most likely destroyed the best thing that had ever happened to me.

 

"I'm not in a 'foul mood,' as you so eloquently put it," I maintained stiffly.  I peered over at Debbie, who issued a snort in response to what I said.  "Uh, Debbie?  You have something to say?" 

 

She shook her head.  "Oh, no, Brian. You've been a regular sweetie pie for the past several weeks...about the same time that you went out for that dinner, and you didn't..."

 

"Never mind, Debbie," I quickly interrupted her sternly as Claire gave me an odd look.  "Don't you have laundry to fluff, or rugs to beat?"  The last thing I wanted was for my sister to know I went out to dinner with a man...and what happened afterward.  Unfortunately, Claire had heard enough to get her curiosity quickly aroused. 

 

"What dinner, Brian?"

 

"It's nothing, Claire," I told her brusquely.  "Just forget it."  Before she could say anything else, I tried another tactic to divert her. "So where are you taking me for lunch? Not that fucking Hibachi restaurant again, I hope.  That knife they were throwing around the last time almost severed my pinkie finger."

 

Claire huffed at me as she reached inside her purse to retrieve the object she always sought whenever she was stressed out.  "Uh, uh, uh," I warned her with a raise of my hand.  She rolled her eyes at me as I told her, "Not in here."

 

I heard my nephew snigger from a few feet away as she scoffed at me.  "Such a puritan, Brian," she replied.  But nonetheless, she did as I asked, stashing her cancer stick back into her purse as she reminded me, "It's _your_ birthday.  What are you in the mind for?" 

 

"How about some peace and quiet?"

 

"You'd might as well do as she asks, Uncle," Brad counseled me.  "You know she won't give up." 

 

I sighed with a nod.  "Well, at least one member of my family has some sense," I decided.  "All right, Claire. You fucking win.  Petrocelli's." 

 

She nodded, satisfied, but grabbed my wrist as I moved to leave.  "Not yet," she told me as I groaned. 

 

"What now?  I thought you said you wanted to leave."  _Let's just get this over with,_ I silently pleaded.  The sooner we ate, the sooner I could get back to my pity party and self-recrimination.

 

"We have to wait for your present first; it's on its way here."

 

I narrowed my brows warily.  "On its way here?  It'd better not be another fucking pet," I warned her. "Or some bimbo busting out of a giant cake."  She had the gall to snicker at me as I scowled in return.

 

"Well, you'll be glad to know it's not another pet, or some bimbo, as you put it," she told me as I exhaled a breath of relief.  I saw her peer down at Mrs. Kinney as she added, "But you can't tell me that darling little girl hasn't gotten you wrapped around her finger...well, her paw, anyway.  You're not fooling me.  Now all we need to do is find the right woman for you that's covered in mink instead of dog fur." 

 

"Ha, Ha," I retorted as Brad chuckled.   "Well, if it's not another pet, just what is it?"  I frowned as a sudden thought occurred to me.  "You better not be telling me you've got some 'date' coming over here to go out to lunch with us.  If you do, I swear, Claire, I'll..."

 

"No, you're safe, Big Brother.  Not this time.  But I'm not giving up on you.  You need some _other_ female to keep you company in addition to Mrs. Kinney here."  She shook her head.  "I still can't believe that's the name you came up with." 

 

I shrugged.  "It fits.  She's a good wife.  But she does snore sometimes."

 

Brad laughed.  "Maybe they make doggie Breathe Rights.®" 

 

I smirked at the thought.  "I'll look into that."  I held out my hands, palms up.  "So what ARE we waiting for, Claire?" Just then, a knock sounded on my door as she grinned. 

 

"I think it just got here.  Brad, you want to see if they need any help?" 

 

" _They_?  What the hell is it?" 

 

Claire gave me a Cheshire-like grin.  "You'll see soon enough," she told me mysteriously.  I could hear my front door opening, and some voices in the hallway before a large object loomed in front of me, being carried by a woman on one side, and some other person I couldn't see on the other; the only thing I could see was a black ball cap perched on his or her head.  I was immediately drawn to the framed photograph, instantly recognizing where it had been taken, and I couldn't help smiling with pleasure over my gift. 

 

Mrs. Kinney suddenly left forth with a yip, and her ears perked up as she ran over to the person holding up the photograph from the other side; normally she was somewhat skittish around strangers, but she seemed almost eager to meet this one as she spun around and around in a circle, like she always did when she was excited.  I frowned slightly before my attention was diverted back to my nephew.

 

"Hey, Daph!" he greeted the young woman with a smile.  "Thanks for bringing this over!"

 

The dark-haired woman smiled back at him.  "No problem.  You must be the birthday boy," she added with a grin, as she turned to peer over at me.

 

I nodded at her.  "That would be me," I confirmed.  "Were you the photographer for this?  It's great!"

 

She beamed at me. "Thanks.  Your nephew thought you would like it." 

 

"I do."  I turned to Brad. "Thanks, Brad.  That had to have cost you a fortune, though."

 

My nephew shrugged.  "I got a good deal on it," he explained as the woman smiled back at him.  "Uhh...excuse my manners!  Daphne Chanders, this is my uncle, Brian. Brian, this is my boss, Daphne."

 

"Nice to meet you, Daphne," I told her. 

 

"Daph...!"  I heard what sounded like a male voice calling out to her from the other side of the photo.

 

"Oh!  Sorry!  Let's just prop it up against the wall," she told her helper, as slowly they lowered the framed photograph together to lean it carefully against the wall, and it was then that I not only confirmed it was a man...but not just ANY man. 

 

Both of us audibly gasped as we realized who it was, but it was Claire who actually spoke first.

 

"Justin!" She greeted him with a sincere smile.  "This is a surprise!"

 

Justin smiled back at her, but his eyes instinctively traveled over to peer at me as he spoke.  "Hi, Claire.  Good to see you again." 

 

I finally found my voice to speak as I asked my sister in shock, "You know him?" 

 

She nodded slowly, seeming uncharacteristically nervous for some reason, which was rare for her.  "Yes," she finally replied. "It's a long story," she began to explain as she clasped her hands together in her lap and looked over at Brad.  She sighed in resignation as she told him, "Look, honey.  I know that you're gay...and I'm actually all right with it." 

 

Brad's mouth hung open in bewilderment.  "I'm NOT gay!  Why did you think I was gay?"

 

"You're not?"  My nephew shook his head. "But...but you never go out with girls!  And you like photography and....and you like poetry, and..."

 

Brad laughed.  "Mom...that has nothing to do with being gay!  And as far as going out with girls..."  He peered over at Daphne.  "Well...maybe I'm kind of shy about that. And...maybe I just hadn't found the right girl yet.  Until now." 

 

I saw him smile as Daphne beamed at him. 

 

"You have now," she told him smugly.  I smiled at that...but my smile faded as I gazed over at the man who had constantly been in my thoughts for the past several weeks.  Even wearing his typical, silly baseball cap - this one with the words ' _We're all the Same'_ written on the bill - I thought he looked even more beautiful than I had remembered him. 

 

"Justin," I murmured, still in disbelief.  My heart thumped erratically in my chest. Of all the places I imagined running into him, my own home would have never been a possibility.  But here he was...standing a few feet away from me. 

 

"Brian," he finally spoke up.  The tone of his voice, however, was anything but tender, and I could easily hear the hurt still present in the way he said my name, and the expression on his face.  Suddenly, I got an inspiration as I pointed my finger at him.  "Don't move!" I demanded, as I turned and rushed down the hallway to my bedroom to grab what I needed from the top of my dresser before heading back to the living room, praying that he would still be there. I was resolved that even if he wasn't, I wasn't going to let him get away, even if I had to run after him.  To my great relief, however, he was still standing there.

 

"Brian?  You know him?  How?" Claire probed as she noticed the two of us staring at each other oddly, but I paid her no mind; my eyes were too fixated on the man standing in front of me, doubt and uncertainty in his eyes.  Finally, I noticed his gaze drifting downward and his eyes widened as he recognized the object grasped in my hand.

 

I slowly approached him, afraid that he would bolt.  I could feel the heat of everyone's gaze on me as I came closer and closer.  "I'm not sure if this would qualify as a crowd...but I hope it'll do," I murmured as I pulled the Yankees ball cap down firmly onto my head and stared into his fathomless, blue eyes.  I reached over with my right hand to grasp his chin as I slowly leaned in and without any hesitation pressed my lips tentatively to his. For a brief moment I felt him resist, before - to my great relief and my sister's extreme shock - I felt his lips part and his arms slide around my neck to pull me closer.   I could hear several people issue a gasp as we continued to kiss, but I didn't care.  I was too busy exalting in having Justin in my arms again, and feeling his body pressed against mine. 

 

Justin was the one to break off the kiss after several seconds, pressing his hands against my chest to create some room between us.  "What...what do you think you're doing?" he asked, his voice breathless.  "You...you can't just expect things to go back to the way they were!"  The hurt was obvious on his face, and it made me feel worse than scum. 

 

I opened my mouth to answer, but didn't have a chance. 

 

"You're....you're _gay_!?" my sister shrieked at me as...just before she promptly fainted and - with Brad's quick reflexes and assistance - fell down onto the couch on her back, out like a light but somehow managing to maintain a grasp on her glass of champagne. 

 

"Hah!" Debbie barked out in satisfaction.  "You finally found a way to shut her up!  Good for you, Brian!"  Her eyes scrutinized Justin intently.  "Well, aren't you just the cutest thing?" she remarked as Justin blushed.  "THIS was who you had dinner with that night?  The one you've been moping about?" 

 

"I wasn't _moping_ ," I protested, although I knew deep down that she had hit the nail on the head.  "I don't DO moping."

 

She snorted.  "Could have fooled me."

 

Justin's eyes flashed as he struggled to free himself, but I held firm.  "Let me go!" 

 

"Not until we talk, Justin." 

 

"We have nothing to talk ABOUT." 

 

"Justin!" Daphne cried out, interrupting us.  "THIS is the man you told me about?"  Justin nodded as I watched her face redden and her eyes darken like a mama grizzly defending her cub.  "You've got a lot of nerve!" she snarled.  "Do you know how much you hurt him?" 

 

"Daph...please..."  Justin pleaded, looking embarrassed.  "This is between me and Brian." 

 

I watched her eyes darken in anger as I continued to grasp Justin by his upper arms, almost as if I were afraid he would still run away.  I wasn't going to let him go anywhere until I could explain...although truthfully I had no fucking idea what I was going to say. 

 

"Justin, are you crazy?  Let's go!"

 

"No, Daphne!" I heard him growl, feeling instantly relieved.  "It's all right.  Let me handle it." 

 

"Are you sure?"  She turned to peer over at my nephew.  "If you hadn't already paid for this, I'd take it back with me.  I can't believe this is your uncle." 

 

She walked over to face me, gifting me with a glare as she told me, "You'd better not hurt him again, or you'll deal with ME."  For a slim, petite girl, she was decidedly authoritative and obviously quite loyal to her friend; traits that I actually found admirable. 

 

"That's the last thing I intend to do," I softly assured her. She continued to stare at me for a few moments longer, until finally she nodded, still not looking quite convinced.  I wasn't sure she would leave without Justin until my nephew spoke up. 

 

"Daphne?  How about we go get some coffee?  I think my uncle's lunch plans have just changed." 

 

I could have kissed my nephew at that moment as he quickly gave me a conspiratorial wink.  But at the moment, there was only one man I was interesting in kissing.  "Justin," I began.  "Stay.  Stay so we can talk."  I paused.  "Please.  I've missed you so fucking much," I whispered. 

 

I saw him attempt to speak, but we were both stymied by a loud moan coming from the couch as Claire slowly awakened from her unconscious state.  "Wha....?" Brad reached to take her champagne glass and place it down on the coffee table in front of her before helping her to sit up.  She groaned as she told him, "I just had the weirdest dream.  I dreamed that your uncle...and this man...that they were..."  She stopped as she peered over at me as I gifted her with a smirk.  "Oh, my God!  It _wasn't_ a dream!"  She fumbled for her purse to pull out her cellphone.  "I have to call Dr. Winslow," she decided as she began to punch in the number for her psychiatrist - only to have Brad reach over to stop her. 

 

"Later, Mother. For now...let's go get some lunch.  Uncle Brian's got other plans." 

 

She gaped at me like a puffer fish before she switched her attention to Daphne.  "Is she coming, too?" I actually thought I could hear some eagerness in her voice as Brad nodded.  She sighed as Brad helped her to stand up and she smoothed out her silk shirt.  "Well, at least I still have a chance for some grandchildren, then."

 

"Mom!" Brad replied in extreme embarrassment as Daphne giggled.  He flashed her a ' _You're not helping'_ sort of look as he took Claire by the elbow and led her toward the door.  "If you're still willing to tolerate the equivalent of the Great Inquisition, I'll let you pick where to eat," he told Daphne.

 

I watched as she gave Justin a quick kiss on the cheek.  "If you need me...."

 

Justin nodded at her as the three of them headed over to the door and exited, closing the door behind them and leaving Justin and me alone...well, _almost_ alone.  Mrs. Kinney by now had become accustomed to Justin's visit, and had headed back over to her dog bed to concentrate on her chew toy.  Debbie, however, stood frozen to her spot, the only sound at the moment the cracking of her gum as she looked over at us with extreme interest.

 

"Uh...Deb..."

 

She arched an eyebrow, seemingly amused by my discomfort.  "Yeah?" 

 

"Why don't you take the rest of the day off?"  _Yes...PLEASE take the rest of the day off_. 

 

"Oh, I don't know," she replied, seemingly uncertain as she pondered my question.  "I get paid to work until 4:30.  I'm not sure it would be right to take advantage of your hospitality." 

 

I huffed with impatience, not in the mood for her banter.   "Debbie....Please.  Just GO." 

 

I saw the beginnings of a smile appear on her face as, at last, she placed her feather duster down onto the table nearby and untied her apron, revealing her shirt saying of the day:  _Sweet Dreams are Made of Cheese._   A large chunk of a cheese wheel was plastered underneath her bright orange shirt as I rolled my eyes, noticing Justin giving her a strange look.  I couldn't say I blamed him. 

 

"Okay," she finally agreed as she walked toward us.  She stopped to take a closer look at Justin, causing him to blush once more, as she unexpectedly patted him on the cheek.  "This one's a keeper," she told me.  "I can tell.  Don't fuck it up."  With that, she turned and headed toward the hall closet. Sliding into her coat, she left me with one, last, parting comment.  "I'll see you tomorrow at the regular time...unless you tell me otherwise."  She smirked before heading to the door and closing it behind her. 

 

* * *

 

I sighed in relief as I peered over at Justin.  "Can we sit down?" I asked softly, almost feeling like I needed to handle him like fragile glass - even though I knew he was anything but. 

 

He nodded as he followed me over to the couch, and I knew that this would be the most crucial pitch I had ever made - and the most important.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just the epilogue to go before it concludes. Thanks to those who have read and especially commented. I do appreciate it. :)


	9. Key to My Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two men finally get a chance to clear the air. What will their conversation lead to in the future? Conclusion/Epilogue.

_Justin's POV_

When I first laid eyes on Brian fifteen minutes ago, I was stunned. I knew he lived in lavish surroundings - and that it, too, was a penthouse - but out of all the penthouses that must surround Central Park, how in the hell did I get so lucky that it would be his?  Or was lucky even the right word?  My eyes had latched onto his as soon as I had seen him, and my heart had reeled in reaction.  As I stared into his eyes, it was then that I knew for certain just how deeply I had fallen for him - and how much he had affected me from the first moment we had met.  I had thought I was finally beginning to get over him and move on - until I saw him standing there in one of his cookie-cutter shirts and sharply creased pair of pants.  Even now, he was still the most incredible-looking man I had ever seen. 

 

He looked just as shocked as I no doubt did; testimony to the fact that he had no idea I would be here, either.  And when he walked over to me - and I could smell the same, tantalizing, expensive cologne that he had worn that night we had made love - I became almost dizzy as the memory washed over me like some alluring siren call.  I was determined, though, that despite his plea to talk that I would not be taken advantage of or misled; not after the pain I had felt after that night. 

 

Still, when he asked me to join him over on the couch so we could talk - his voice at once mesmerizing as well as pleading - I couldn't say no.  No, I couldn't resist, because I knew that deep down I wanted another chance with him.  I wanted to give _him_ another chance.  At least I wanted to hear what he had to say.  To know why he had done what he had done, and acted the way that he had.  The fact that he had put that ball cap on his head - and had kissed me in front of everyone - was a good and promising start. But that was ALL it was - a start. 

 

I held up my hand as we faced each other on the couch, signaling to him that I needed to say my piece first.  "Before you say anything...I want you to know that I am not going to be some experiment regarding your sexuality, Brian.  I'm not some litmus test you can use, and then just toss away." 

 

Brian's eyes narrowed, and I thought I saw anger there. "Is that what you thought that night was?  Me, just experimenting out of curiosity?  Do you?" He pressed, my eyes staring unblinkingly into his. 

 

I peered back at me for several seconds before, at last, I shook my head; I thought I saw relief on his face as I whispered hoarsely, "No." 

 

"Surely you know it was more than that."  My pulse raced as he reached over and laid his palm against my cheek.  "A _lot_ more."  He paused as his fingers slowly stroked my face, making my body tingle.  "Don't you know that?" he asked, suddenly sounding vulnerable. 

 

_How much of my heart could I expose?_ I wondered as he continued to stare into my eyes; I was swimming in so many emotions, the depths of which I had never experienced before.  _How much was I willing to reveal to him?_   "I...I'm hoping it was," I finally admitted as he nodded.

 

"Do you know I went over to your apartment after that night?  More times than I can remember."

 

My mouth hung open in shock. I had had no idea.  "You did?" 

 

He nodded at me.   "Your neighbors and I got to know each other well, at least from a distance...and not in a good way.  I think I learned some expletives even _I_ wasn't aware of."  He paused.  "Why didn't you ever answer your door?"

 

I averted my gaze as I explained, "I didn't spend a lot of time at my place...after what happened.  Reggie and I stayed somewhere else."   I didn't tell him that every time I looked at my bed after that night, I couldn't stop thinking about him lying there with me, his arms wrapped around me like a comforting cocoon, and how empty it had felt afterward. 

 

"Your friend Daphne's?" Brian probed.  I thought I heard something odd in the tone of his voice as he asked me.  _Curiosity? Jealousy?  Fear?_   Was he afraid that I had sought comfort elsewhere? In a way, that had been true; at least for that one, unfortunate slip up with Derrick.  But I had made sure I didn't use that type of pain therapy again after that one time.

 

I shook my head, noticing Brian looking away as if he were afraid of the answer.  "I was painting most of the time," I explained softly, as he lifted his gaze to peer at me silently.  "I share a studio near Hell's Kitchen with some other artists.  It's got a shitty bathroom, and a cot over in the corner for when one of us goes on a painting spree and doesn't want to stop.  We artists can be a little...manic/obsessive sometimes," I told him wryly.  I know I was like that whenever I got upset or stressed...and on a scale of one to ten, this one had rated at least a twenty.

 

"And that's what you were doing all those times I tried to reach you?" he asked me quietly.  "Painting?" 

 

I nodded, swallowing hard.  "Yes.  It's what I do...when I want to forget about my pain." 

 

I observed Brian swallowing hard.  "I'm sorry that I was the cause of that," he murmured.   "More sorry than you'll ever know." 

 

I didn't make any effort to refute his statement; after all, what would be the point?  He reached over to lightly brush the pads of his fingers across my lips; it was such a simple motion - but caused my entire body to shiver.  No man had ever made me feel such strong emotions, and made my body react so strongly, just with a mere touch.  It was almost frightening in its intensity. 

 

"Justin....I know I have a lot to learn. I'm not saying there wouldn't be...difficulties or hurdles we would have to address.  Not to mention Claire.  While my nephew is quite sane, you've already gotten a taste of what it would be like to be consistently exposed to my sister.  She means well, but..."

 

"I've already _had_ that pleasure," I reminded him with a half-smile. 

 

His eyes widened.  "That's right! She _knew_ you!  How?" 

 

"She and I have been having some interesting conversations at the PFLAG meetings I help oversee once a week." 

 

I thought Brian was going to keel over in shock.  "What!?  Why in the hell would she be at a PFLAG meeting?  She wouldn't be caught dead there!" 

 

"Well, it's at night," I explained.  "And she doesn't actually go inside the church where it's held.  We sit outside on the steps and talk."  I thought about all the conversations we had had, and I agreed.  Claire was well-intentioned.  Misinformed in some ways, and worried about her son.  But she had a good heart and cared about her son, or she wouldn't have been there in the first place.

 

"I still can't believe it," he murmured, shaking his head.  "But if she wasn't there because of me, then why...?"  The reason became apparent to him after he remembered what she had said.  "She was there because she thought _Brad_ was gay." 

 

I nodded my head as he chuckled. 

 

"Well, it appears she had the wrong family member," he replied dryly. 

 

"Yeah," I told him.  "But she was really trying to help understand him.  If she didn't love him, she wouldn't have done that." 

 

"No," he agreed.  "Believe me.  For my sister, that was a major undertaking."  His shook his head in amazement.  "She might just come around after all," he decided.  He studied me then, and I could tell he wanted to say more.

 

"What?"

 

He gazed into my eyes for a few moments before asking quietly, "So where does this leave us, Justin?  Our relationship?" 

 

Deciding to take some initiative, I hesitated for a few moments before reaching over to grasp his hand in mine, again startled by how that made me feel, just touching him.  "Where do you _want_ it to lead us?"

 

Brian waited a few seconds before answering me.  "Honestly?  I'm not entirely sure," he told me.  I felt a little nervous then, until he added softly, "But I'm sure I would definitely like to find out.  Wouldn't you?" 

 

My heart finally risking to hope, I replied, "Yeah.  I think I would." 

 

He smiled back at me in obvious relief as nodded.  "One more question."

 

"What?"

 

"Just how many ball caps DO you have?" 

 

I grinned at last.  "More than enough for us to share." 

 

He nodded.  "Good.  I think I could get used to them as a fashion accessory," he informed me as he yanked the Yankees cap off his head and placed it on mine before leaning in to kiss me again.  It was a tender kiss. But also one that spoke of promise and hope. 

* * *

 

_Epilogue - Christmas Eve - Justin's Apartment - Brian's POV_

"I still can't believe that you're here." 

 

I smiled in reaction, slowly stroking Justin's soft hair with my fingers.  He was presently lying sideways with his head in my lap and not a stitch of clothing on, which was perfectly fine with me.  The flickers of the flame made intriguing patterns on his skin, which I found fascinating.  We were lounging in front of the fireplace in Justin's modest living room, my back propped up against the couch on the plush oval rug that dominated the rather small space.  Justin had told me that it was the only luxury he had permitted himself when it had come to furnishing his apartment, and at the moment I was eternally grateful, because it felt heavenly to sit here, savoring the feel of Justin next to me.  How I could have ever thought I could be this happy and feel this content with some woman was so foreign to me, now that I had met him.  Our attraction for each other continued to be somewhere out in the stratosphere and beyond explosive since we had reunited, but I also had come to realize that I was falling in love with this amazing, passionate, and talented young man.  I hadn't yet told Justin that, however. I wasn't sure why. But after we had finally gotten back together, I found that I wanted to take things a little more slowly so as not to fuck anything up again.  This was much too important to me.  "What?  You were expecting Kris Kringle instead?" I teased him.

 

Justin grimaced.  "Okay...you so just ruined THAT romantic moment."  He rose to sit beside me, snuggling closer to my side as I slid my arm around his waist and pulled him closer to me, his warm hand coming to rest, palm down, on my chest. 

 

I chuckled.  "Well, let me try and make it up to you, then," I murmured, leaning my head down to give Justin a kiss.  He moved then to straddle me, cradling my head in his hands as we deepened the kiss before I had to break it off after several seconds, leaving us both panting breathlessly and my heart rapping furiously against my chest. 

 

"I can't believe what you do to me," I replied softly in amazement as Justin blushed.  "To think I could have had this a long time ago." 

 

Justin stared deeply into my eyes.  "I'm relieved that you didn't," was his surprising answer as I frowned before he explained.  "Because it would have been with someone else, and I would have maybe never met you then." 

 

I smiled with a nod, pleased at the thought, as I stroked Justin's bare shoulder.  "Then I'm glad I waited," I told him simply. I took a deep breath as I gazed into his face and smirked.  "And now, little elf..."  Justin snorted as I smiled at his reaction.  "While you're sitting in my lap, it's time for you to let Santa here deliver his gift to you."  I was definitely ready for another round with THIS particularly voracious sprite, but I suddenly felt way overdressed for that particular activity.

 

Before I could make good on my promise, however, Justin grinned impishly as he pulled back to sit up a little straighter and gave my cock a squeeze through my lightweight silk pajamas.  They had been a Christmas gift from him, since Justin knew I wasn't quite comfortable enough to parade around nude yet, even though to my chagrin he didn't seem to mind walking around in HIS birthday suit quite frequently.  In fact, the little exhibitionist seemed to derive great pleasure in tormenting me with his little show as much as possible, at least when we were here in his apartment.  It was a little more difficult, however, with Debbie underfoot at my penthouse, but she had turned out to be one of the biggest supporters of our relationship, telling me 'it was about fucking time.'  It wasn't so much that she had figured out beforehand that I was gay; all she knew was that I was happy now; happier than I had ever been before, and she now she knew the reason why.  She had told me that a 'happy Brian was an easier-to-live-with Brian,' whatever the hell that had meant.    

 

In the weeks since my birthday, we had feverishly been trying to make up for lost time, and I had found out just how insatiable I was when it came to having sex with Justin; so much so that I discovered I could more than match Justin in the stamina department, almost as if I were trying to compensate for all the time I had missed before.

 

Amazingly, even my sister had come around.  While she still did not quite understand how I could be physically attracted to another man, she had become fond of Justin by now, mainly as a result of their talks at the PFLAG meetings, and she could tell how content I was with him. So in the end she decided that our relationship was a good thing.  We had even - heaven forbid - been out to dinner with her, Brad, and Daphne, and the world hadn't come to an end.

 

Speaking of Daphne, she initially had been skeptical of my intentions, worried that I might be using Justin as some sort of sexual experiment. But I had been determined to prove to her that my feelings for Justin were real, and that this was no temporary thrill.  My and Daphne's relationship was still in the infant stages, so to speak, but Justin had told me that even she was beginning to believe that my feelings for him were genuine.  I knew that was important, too, because I sensed how crucial her friendship was to Justin, so it was important to me, also.  I had to give her credit for her loyalty to him. 

 

 

Another good thing had resulted from that day as well.  It had served as enough of an impetus for Brad to ask his new boss out, and ever since then he and Daphne had been inseparable to the point where they recently had moved in together.  In fact, everything was going so well lately that I almost feared something would happen to damage it.  I knew my fear was groundless, but I couldn't help being afraid nonetheless, because this meant too much to me. 

 

Justin's stroking of my cock brought me back to focusing on him as I shivered at the sensations he was producing.  "Hey!  I thought _I_ was in control here!  Santa's the one who's in charge at the North Pole, remember?"  I teased him. But it was debatable just who WAS in charge at the moment, and I had to admit that I didn't mind a 'take-charge' Justin at all.   

 

Justin grinned as we stared deeply into each other's eyes.  "And what a pole it is," he replied huskily as he continued to work his hand up and down my shaft.  _Holy shit_.  I could feel the wetness in my pajamas, and my dick quickly hardening in painful response as I reached down to hurriedly capture the roaming hand with my wrist before I totally embarrassed myself.  This was NOT how I wanted to come; I had something much more intense and pleasurable in mind. 

 

"Hey!  My 'pole' has other plans for you, young man," I told him sternly; I smiled as Justin squeaked when I used my greater strength to quickly push him down onto the rug so I was lying on top of him now, my hands gripping his above his head.   I took advantage of his relative helplessness to steal a kiss from his soft lips, noticing he didn't mind that in the least. 

 

"Now I have you right where I want you," I told him playfully as he licked his lips and smiled up at me, his expression so beguiling and trusting.  Grinning triumphantly back at him, my eyes darkened at the sight before me as my smile faded into something much more intense, almost overwhelming.  "Fuck, you are so damn beautiful," I couldn't help whispering as his pale skin flushed in reaction.  I loved watching how his body transformed in response to what I did or said; it was such a heady, powerful feeling, one that filled me with such emotion.  My eyes slowly traveled down the slim, nude form lying at my command, feeling Justin's cock lying proudly erect between us.  "Justin..."  I whispered, hearing my voice break slightly.  At that moment, I didn't think my heart could feel any fuller, or I could ever be any happier than I was right now. _Could I say it?  DARE I say it?_ But good idea or not, I knew I couldn't help it escaping from my lips. Now that I finally realized who - and what - I really was, it was important to me that he knew everything now.

 

"Hmm...?"  He responded, leaning up with his head to kiss my lips encouragingly before he lay still again beneath me, waiting for me to reply.  "Brian?" he whispered curiously.

 

I took a deep breath, not sure what his reaction would be, but knowing I had to say it regardless; I couldn't keep it inside any longer. He frowned slightly; I could tell he was beginning to become a little worried by my hesitation.  _Just say it, you coward._ "I...I think I'm falling in love with you." 

 

The slowly spreading smile Justin gave me soon turned into a blinding one, causing me to smile back at him as my heart filled with joy over his next words.  "I don't _think_ I'm falling in love with you....I _know_ I am." 

 

"Justin..."  Whatever words I was going to say after that were promptly forgotten as I let my body and my lips do my talking instead. 

 

* * *

_Six Months Later...Central Park - Justin's POV_

My fingers intertwined firmly with Brian's, I smiled as I stole a glance at my lover as we walked Reggie and Mrs. Kinney around the park, stopping occasionally for one or both of them to take a good sniff at a tree, bush, or flower.  The less formal attire that Brian had taken to wearing these past few weeks - a pair of jeans (quality made and quite expensive, of course; after all, Brian had his standards), a long-sleeved, soft cotton shirt with the sleeves slightly rolled up, and a pair of casual Gucci loafers - looked quite dashing on him...and very sexy, too, I had to admit.  He was even gracious about the ball caps I gifted him with from time to time, even though he still thought the idea of a grown man wearing one was a bit silly. But just the fact that he undoubtedly did it for me anyway made my heart fill to capacity. 

 

We arrived at our customary bench and tied both dogs to their respective bench legs as we sat down together, our thighs touching, even though there was plenty of navigating room; enough for three or even four.  But we never sat any farther apart now. And when we DID sit there on our bench, we held hands.  Always.  I silently marveled at how far our relationship had come since that first day we had met, not voicing it aloud, however, sensing that Brian really didn't want a big deal made of it. But to me, it WAS a big deal. And I knew how much courage - and love for me - it had taken him to arrive at this point in our lives. 

 

"Beautiful day today," Brian commented.

 

I nodded, his grip on my hand tightening slightly as we sat there congenially, enjoying the spring warmth, and the sounds and sights of Central Park.  I smiled, a gesture that did not go unnoticed by my lover.

 

"What?" he asked softly.  "You seem to be in a good mood this morning." 

 

I nodded.  "I am."

 

"Any particular reason?"

 

I turned my head to peer over at him and smiled even more.  "Yeah. As a matter of fact, there is."  

 

He smiled back at me. "Care to share?" 

 

I leaned in closer as Brian did the same; as our lips met, there was no hesitation on his part as we kissed for several seconds before a sharp bark from Reggie made us pull back.  He was pulling on his leash, straining to chase a squirrel that had had the nerve to venture too close to what he perceived as his own private territory.

 

"Reggie!  It's okay, Boy," I told him in my 'stop barking' voice, and he did as I asked after a couple more yips, issuing a brief sort of grunt before he lay down beside Mrs. Kinney, his bug eyes gazing up at me.

 

"Don't give me that look, either," I told him.  "You're not running off-leash until we get to the dog park."  I laughed as that remark was met with a sort of disappointed groan as if he could actually understand what I was saying. 

 

Brian and I exchanged a grin between us, making me remember his question from earlier.  "To answer your question, I'm happy because it's a wonderful spring day...and I'm enjoying it with the man I love." 

 

"I can't think of a better reason to see you smile.  Well...maybe one," he told me mysteriously. 

 

I eyed him curiously.  "What?" I probed.  "What are you talking about?  Tell me." 

 

Brian grinned; he seemed to be enjoying my curiosity.  "The reason's in my jeans pocket," he told me with a smirk.  "Come and get it."

 

My face flushed as I felt the heat bloom all over my face.  "Brian," I laughed.  "Can you be any more obvious?" 

 

He smirked.  "Not that," he told me.  "I have something else in there.  Go fish." 

 

I couldn't help giggling.  "Okay, I'll bite," I decided. I let go of Brian's hand to slide my own inside the pants pocket nearest to me, but I came up empty. 

 

"Other pocket," Brian told me, clearly enjoying himself. 

 

I rolled my eyes, but decided that two could play this game as I very slowly slid my hand over the bulge in Brian's jeans, taking a moment to give his crotch a squeeze and making him grunt as he squirmed.  Grinning at him smugly, I was forced to twist my body to half lie on top of his as I snaked my hand down his other pocket and felt a hard, flat object. _A credit card?  Driver's License?_   I pulled it out, holding it up as I recognized it as a key card - the type you would normally use for a hotel room.  My eyes widened as I sat back heavily next to my lover and stared at the object in my hands, trying to wrap my head around the possible significance, but trying desperately not to jump to conclusions.  "Brian?"  I finally whispered, as I lifted my gaze to look into his eyes. 

 

He appeared a little flustered, or maybe even uncertain, as he softly instructed me, "Read what it says." 

 

My heart felt like it was about to burst right out of my chest as I looked down at the writing, and I felt like I was about to stop breathing, too, as I read what it said:

 "Brian...."

 

He smiled at me gently.  "Read the back," he encouraged me, as I flipped it over, noticing more handwritten words there:

I gasped audibly then, causing both Reggie and Mrs. Kinney to peer up at me curiously, no doubt wondering if they had missed something important.  _That would definitely be an understatement_ , I decided, if this was what I thought it was.  The writing on the keycard was almost amateurish in nature, but it didn't matter. The message was still loud and clear...at least I hoped it was.

 

"I know the artwork is not up to _your_ standards," I heard him say quietly as I continued to gaze at it in wonder.  "But it'll still work on the elevator that goes up to my penthouse...and it'll get you in the door, too.  You're the only other person who has one."  He laughed softly then.  "Even Claire doesn't have one.  Definitely NOT Claire.  Debbie has the okay to be buzzed up by the concierge, but only with my prior approval first. And Brad; well, he probably wouldn't need one now, anyway, not with him and Daphne..."  His voice trailed off nervously as he pushed some hair back from his eyes.  "Uh...Help me out here, Justin."

 

"You're giving me a keycard to your penthouse, so I can come and go whenever I want?" I asked, not willing to read anymore into it. But I soon learned I didn't have to.

 

He smiled at me almost shyly then as he rolled his lips under briefly.  "No, you amazing idiot!  I'm asking you to move in with me!  You...and Reggie there.  That is, if he's neutered.  He IS neutered...right?  Just the thought of a cross between those two breeds makes me shudder."

 

It took me a few moments to actually answer Brian's last question, because I was still trying to digest the rest of what he had said.  "Yes....of course, he's neutered!"

 

Brian began to babble now as he continued, "Well, don't worry; Mrs. Kinney here won't be getting knocked up any time soon anyway. I'll get her fixed.  But I read that you have to wait until they're about six months old before you can take them to the vet and get them neutered, and she's finally past that point..."

 

I laughed.  "It's not neutered, Brian; it's spayed for females.  Brian..."

 

"Oh...spayed. Well, as long as old Reggie here has been neutered, we'll be fine anyway.  Not sure what we'll do with all your furniture, though, but at least you don't have a lot.  Can you sublet your place, by the way?  That might be the best solution..."

 

"I think so, but Brian..." 

 

Brian nodded as he prattled on, which was so uncharacteristic of him.  "Well, that's good.  A lot of places out in the boroughs won't let you do that, so it's good that you live close to Central Park, because that area's always in demand..."

 

I took a deep breath.  "Brian, will you please shut the fuck up!?   You won't let me get a word in edgewise!" 

 

Finally, Brian paused, taking a deep breath of his own and letting it out.  "I know," he told me quietly, his voice a lot slower now.  He peered into my eyes as he admitted, "Because if I do, I'm afraid you'll say no.  You AREN'T going to say no, are you?" he asked me softly.  He half-smiled.  "I think Mrs. Kinney would be very disappointed if you did."  He paused.  "Her owner would be, too." 

 

"Brian, this is a big step...."  I began.

 

He sighed at me.  "Justin, we're practically together all the time now, anyway, and it would make things much easier.  Besides, I'd have a built-in dog walker for when Debbie's not available."

 

I laughed.  "So it's finally out in the open!  Now I know why you want me to move in."

 

His face became serious.  "You know that's not the reason."

 

I gazed into his eyes. "Well, if you would let me answer, maybe you'll find out if I want to or not."  I looked down at the card in my hands.  At once a relatively simple thing...but something that held great significance in its symbolism.  I thought about how far we had come since that first day we had met in the park, and on this very same bench.  "You know, we should probably have this bench dedicated to us with a plaque," I told him with a grin.  "We practically own it now, anyway.  No one would dare sit on it during our allotted time.  I wonder if gold, silver, or bronze would look better against the wood, though?" 

 

"Justin...you're killing me here!"

 

I smiled then as I peered into his anxious face as my heart overflowed with happiness...just before I launched myself into his lap.  "Of course I'll move in with you!" I squealed with joy, as his arms wound tightly around my back.  The tears flowed freely down my face as I hugged him back, feeling so safe, secure, protected, and loved in his arms. 

 

"Thank God," I heard him murmur against my ear as we stayed that way for a long time, oblivious to everyone and everything else. We didn't care if anyone gawked at us or disapproved of what we were doing.  For that moment in time, we were lost in our own, little world.

 

Finally we pulled back, and I noticed we both had goofy smiles on our faces. 

 

Brian let out a huge sigh of relief.  "Well, Mrs. Kinney and I are glad that's settled," he told me with a grin, lightly brushing my lower lip with his index finger.  He looked down at the large-eared, white princess, who peered back up at him inquisitively with her huge, dark eyes.  "Aren't we, Mrs. Kinney?" he asked the dog, who cocked her head sideways as she attempted to understand what all the hoopla was about.  She finally lay back down with a sort of quiet groan, as if she had decided it was nothing significant. _How wrong she was...!_

 

I laughed. "Yeah, I can tell she's overwhelmed with excitement at the thought," I told my lover dryly.  "So..." Brian raised his eyebrows questioningly.  "When can Reggie and I move in?"  I asked him.

 

Brian leaned in to kiss me first before he whispered against my lips, "How about yesterday?" 

 

I returned the kiss before replying with a smile, "Sounds about right."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to everyone who read and especially to those who left feedback. That definitely encourages me to keep writing! I promise to reply to every review as I always do; it might take me a day or two, however, due to a family emergency, but I appreciate all of you more than I can say.


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